


Someone to Save

by olimakiella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Blatant lies, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Manipulations, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olimakiella/pseuds/olimakiella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus has always been a smart man. His latest accomplishment can testify to that. A passing glance into his - rather shorter than hoped for - future shows him that he has made wrong decisions about more than one thing in his life. He now knows that the rapidly upcoming war is going to bring about a devastation like the world has never seen and death to hundreds of people, including himself. Dumbledore continually tells him that Harry Potter needs the love in his heart to save the world. That isn’t normally a problem, since Potter has a crippling Hero Complex, but now the Wizarding World is turning against their saviour and Harry Potter is losing what love he had fast. He’s not so sure he wants to save it anymore. Therefore, Severus gives him something to save.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone to Save

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeannie81](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jeannie81).



> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Credit goes to the HP Lexicon for dates, textbook references, quotations and spells I couldn’t easily remember.
> 
> Written for the 2012 HPTimeTravel Fest on LJ for prompt #150: 
> 
> Severus invents and brews a potion to get a glimpse into the future. He sees what happens in canon and sets out to save himself and Dumbledore, while making sure Draco's unharmed and Harry still defeats Voldemort. He decides the best way to ensure all of this is to get Draco and Harry together. Squicks: unhappy ending, heavy BDSM, scat, wandplay, main character death. Additional Information: I don't mind at what time Severus uses the potion and decides these things, but I personally imagine it being around the end of fifth year before Voldemort gives Draco his assignment. Maybe Severus also sees Remus dying in his glimpse and decides to save him as well? I know this could easily be a humorous fic, but I'd definitely like to see this as a serious, maybe angsty fic. I'd love Severus using his Slytherin cunning to play matchmaker.
> 
> Also, special dedication to my beta Nenne. So awesome you are.

Severus opened his eyes, his vision swimming in the dim light of the room. There was a knocking sound.  _What is that?_  he thought to himself and then clutched his head.  _Oh, that seriously hurts_. He tried to sit up, but a bright light searing his eyeballs made him fall back again. The ground was hard and unrelenting behind him.  _Why am I on the ground?_  his mind then supplied for him.  
  
“Severus?” There was a pause and then the light he was trying to block from his eyes went away and his name was repeated with some added dismay. “What are you doing on the floor?” The voice held a mix of confusion, concern and amusement. It hurt his head trying to figure it out. A faint scent of parchment and grass filled his nose before there were hands grasping at his biceps, trying to get him to sit up.   
  
That voice. Severus opened his eyes to see warm sherry brown ones staring back at him. They were curious and full of life. So unlike the vacant stare he’d just witnessed. He held his breath, feeling nauseated. He leaned to the side on his forearm and placed his other hand palm-flat on the ground. After a few seconds, the nausea passed and he could breathe in the faint familiar scent of his potions laboratory without needing to vomit all over it.  
  
“Lupin, what are you doing here?” he said in a low voice. Anything higher than that and his head would split in two, he was sure of it. When he got no reply, he looked up to see concern reflected in Remus’ eyes. The man had been reinstated as the Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. After the debacle of Barty Crouch impersonating Moody throughout the 1994 to 1995 school year, Albus had announced publicly that Remus Lupin could be considered no worse than a Death Eater. The public, amazingly, agreed. His work in Potter’s third year was proof he could make the students apply themselves better. Severus might not like the man, but he could not deny his talent for teaching. The proof was in the results.  
  
“I’m here for the Wolfsbane. You told me it would be finished today.” Remus was still staring at him in concern. The man had actually sat down on the ground to join him. He looked weary. The full moon was approaching, so Severus couldn’t blame him for being tired. “If it’s not,” he continued hesitantly, “I can come back later. Are you alright?” he finally asked. Severus was surprised. It had taken him a lot longer than he thought it would for the phrase to burst out.  
  
Severus rolled his eyes and, with some effort, he finally stood. The ground was hard and cold. A man his age had no business staying down there for so long. Despite his weariness, Lupin stood with an agility missing in his appearance and, with it, any pity Severus held out for him at his time of the month was quashed. He dusted off his clothes and turned to the cauldron he’d been working on...  _Hmm._  He walked up to it and placed his hand on the black, well-used metal. Stone cold.  
  
As his mind worked, he missed Remus walking around his station and staring inside to the dark purple creation he’d been perfecting since 1981. The cauldron was on its side, the potion spread and drying sticky on the counter top. Severus looked down to his hand to see a slight burn in a line across his fingers. They tingled unpleasantly and he balled his hand into a fist when he became aware of it. “Is this what made you dead on the ground?” His eyebrows rose in enquiry.  
  
 _Dead on the ground..._  His black eyes snapped to Lupin, the empty unseeing gaze of Remus’ dead eyes were the last thing he’d seen before he’d woken up to hear Remus knocking on his door. Dead on the ground was an understatement to what he’d seen. He shut his eyes and turned away, his breathing shaky. There had to be a way out. From what he could tell, the war was not going to end well for anyone, not the countless dead bodies, not himself, not even... He turned. Lupin cocked his head to the side, his brow quirking. Severus sighed.  _Desperate times._  
  
“I need to speak with you.”

“This is... quite a lot to take in,” Remus said and took another shot. There was a reason a man was not supposed to know what happened to him. It made him drink. He took hold of the bottle Severus had insisted they would need for the conversation and poured more of the amber liquid inside. Severus nodded, his eyes narrowing on the fourth shot the wolf had taken of his whiskey. The Wolfsbane he’d made earlier would end up having side-effects if Remus kept this up. No one needed a drunk werewolf on their hands, cognisant or no. “I know. The future is bleak.”

“Fucking right it is,” Remus muttered and knocked back another one. Severus tutted and stayed his hand as he went to pour another one. “I have a kid? With  _Dora_?” He shook his head and let Severus take his glass. “She’s  _half_  my bloody age. And I’m being kind.” His hand rubbed at his triceps, feeling the itch of the change, but he wouldn’t go outside. Not yet.  
  
Severus stared at him sternly as he took the glass away. He put it down, the glass knocking pointedly against the wood of the desk in the classroom. “I did not tell you so that you could go over the deep end. Believe it or not, I need what little is left of the mind you have killed.” He brushed his hair back and sat on a stool.  
  
Remus dragged up a stool of his own and sat with a heavy sigh. He stared out at nothing, his imagination causing his eyes to flick from left to right as if he was speed-reading from a book. Suddenly his face gave an impression of confusion and disbelief. “Everyone dies?” He sobered. “Even Harry?”  
  
A solemn expression filtered onto Severus’ face. Turning to face Remus, he rested his elbow on the desk and combed a hand through his hair. The feeling was both familiar and therapeutic. His hand paused propping up his head mid-comb and he nodded. “In the Forbidden Forest. I saw Hagrid carrying him back into the school, passing Albus’ crypt by the lake on the way, as the Dark Lord’s trophy kill.” Remus winced and looked away. “It has to be stopped.”  
  
Remus nodded, his eyes blinking rapidly. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “We have to tell Dumbledore.”  
  
Severus knew it was something they had to do. He’d stalled long enough, even allowing himself to get tipsy with a werewolf on the brink of his change. He didn’t want to admit to being afraid. The last prophecy he’d passed on to Dumbledore had caused the most important person in his life to be killed. He looked up at Remus and dropped his hand, his hair falling forward once he let it go. He got up and went to his desk drawer, pulling out the Wolfsbane he’d completed hours before. As he handed it over to Remus, he decided. No one else would die because of him. He would make certain of it, no matter what it cost.   
  
“Tomorrow.” Remus sat up, startled and worried. “You must run tonight. Agitated as you are, it is not advisable that you remain indoors tonight. Go.” He gestured to the door with his head. When Remus still sat quietly staring at him, Severus rolled his eyes. “I will be fine. I’m simply going to clean this mess up and bottle the remainder of it. He pushed Remus to stand and moved the stool back to the row of tables he’d borrowed it from. “Go, Lupin.”  
  
Remus left, watching Severus start mopping up the remains of the potion that had spilled onto the floor.

Dumbledore eyed the two extraordinary men before him with dull eyes, absent of their usual twinkle. The tale they told was a grave one, absent of any hope, of any loophole. “How did you learn of this?”  
  
In response, Severus placed a phial of the dark purple potion he’d created on the table. “I’ve been perfecting this on and off for a while. I started it years ago. It was a hobby, a dream. I completed it early yesterday morning. I tested it yesterday afternoon. We thought it best to wait until we could both tell you of it in person.” He passed a knowing glance to Remus, who returned it.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, understanding. A knowing gleam entered his eyes, though. He knew exactly when Severus had started this. He also knew why. Lily Potter had changed a lot of lives that night. Harry’s was just the beginning. “And you are certain of everything you saw?” he asked. There had to be no possibility of doubt, the future depended on it.  
  
Severus nodded. “I am.”  
  
Sadly, Dumbledore nodded. The casualty list they’d given him had been long. “We will need to call a meeting.”  
  
Frowning, Remus took a step forward. “Sir, if I may. Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dumbledore gestured for him to explain. “It’s just... this is the future we’re dealing with. I know we wish to change it as much as we can, but, like using a time-turner, the less we broadcast about this, the better.”  
  
A thoughtful look passed over Albus’ features. “You have a point. Well, gentlemen, we need a plan. If what you say will happen, is, in fact, going to happen, then we must plan this meticulously. I will have to talk to Harry.” His gaze fell to his wand, resting on the table next to his forearm.  
  
“Potter?” Severus said.  
  
Albus looked up at Severus. “Like Voldemort, he is at the core of this problem too.”  
  
Severus stood, his eyes flashing angrily. “That boy is not the centre of the Universe.”  
  
To counteract his fury, Dumbledore remained calm. “No, Severus, but he is the centre of  _Tom Riddle’s_  Universe.” At those words, he could visibly see Severus deflate. “Everything he does is based upon that boy, upon killing Harry Potter.” He looked to the potion bottle on his desk and picked it up. “But we cannot make any large scale gestures. As Remus stated, making too big of a change may cause inadvertent effects. We may even make this worse. We have to use something small, one small action.” His voice faded out as he pondered the possibilities.   
  
“A linchpin,” Remus concluded.  
  
Dumbledore smiled at the analogy. “Indeed.”

The next day, in an unused classroom on the first floor, the chalkboards were filled with handwriting from three different hands. Dumbledore's Pensieve stood majestic behind them, its contents swirling in the depths of it. Severus had carefully extracted his memory of the vision and placed it in there earlier. After reviewing it, the three men were now trying to find the action that set it all into motion. They’d built a timeline of sorts, numbering each action and decision that the people featured in the vision had made and connected them with lines.

Remus tapped his lip with the chalk, he’d come in freshly showered after a night of gallivanting around in wolf form and his hair was still wet, curling around his ears and over his forehead. Dumbledore had said the meeting was important so the wolf had obviously not bothered to do much with himself aside from making sure he was clean. Severus watched the dust mark it left on his chin. “It starts with that task,” the brunet said, ignorant of Severus’ attention.  
  
Dumbledore turned to Severus. “Have you heard anything about it yet?”  
  
Turning away from the distraction, Severus shook his head. “I know that there is a line-up of tasks for new recruits. Each member is given one after they get the Mark.” His arms crossed over his chest to mask how he’d taken hold of his arm. A quick glance showed that Albus was still staring at the board while Remus was staring at him and once he’d turned to him, those brown eyes purposefully fell to his cross-armed stance. He glared at the man and Remus turned away. Instead, Remus met Dumbledore’s questioning gaze.  
  
“To kill me,” the Headmaster stated.  
  
Getting back on topic, Severus put that shared glance out of his mind. “Yes,” he said and walked up to the board. He followed one line from the word “Task” on the board to ‘Unbreakable vow’ “And from that, Narcissa has me partake in an Unbreakable Vow to help him carry out the task.” He followed the line to another action. “I tell you and you make me promise to kill you.” Remus came to stand next to him at the board, his eyes easily following the story on the board. They’d been over this so many times already that Severus’ head was starting to hurt. He ignored Remus and that fresh scent of whatever he’d washed with, continuing his narration. “Knowing you’re running out of time, you give Harry a task of his own with background information on Tom Riddle and what he did to become what he is now.”  
  
“Meanwhile,” Remus said, on his side of the board. “Draco is trying hard, but not hard enough, to complete his task and, as extra incentive, You-Know-Who takes Draco’s parents and holds them hostage in their own home.” He followed a line down to ‘Vanishing Cabinet’. “He’s gathering strength and Draco finally finds a way to get all of the Death Eaters into the school.” Another line was traced with his finger, blurring the sharp chalk imprint. “They corner you in the Astronomy Tower. You try to talk Malfoy out of it and even offer his mother protection but he tells you it’s too late.” Remus’ brow furrowed here for a moment before forcing himself to continue. “He lowers his wand anyway as Severus appears and kills you in his stead, like you wanted.”  
  
It was a second before Severus could continue. He didn’t understand Albus’ blasé attitude toward this, he doubted he ever could. “And then, after your funeral, He takes over the Ministry and assigns me as Headmaster of the school. He runs the school through me.” Severus’ tone is muted as he says this, pulling up a stool and tiredly sitting next to his mentor.  
  
Remus shakes his head. “Where is Harry through all this?” he asked as more of a rhetorical question. He’d asked it before and after the second time, Severus only responded in glares and clipped tones.  
  
Testament to how tired the Potion’s Master must have been, he only let out a tired, “I didn’t see him until he appeared in the Forbidden Forest and the Dark Lord killed him.” The knowledge was accompanied by a shrug.  
  
Albus let his eyes run over the headline of the Daily Prophet. They’d taken a break for some lunch and one of the elves had brought him the paper. “With how the world is treating him, I don’t blame him.” The text blared that Harry may not be completely sane. Somehow, declaring the Dark Lord was back was, apparently, social suicide. “I have told him that love will help him win the war, but how can he love a world that shuns him in return?” he asked more to himself than the room.  
  
Understanding, the other two in the room kept silent.  
  
“You think that may be our linchpin?” Remus said breaking the silence they’d lapsed into. “Getting the public to like him again?  
  
Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard. “It could be. But Harry has not been himself after he lost Sirius and I believe it will take a lot for him to care for a world he feels has failed him too many times.”  
  
Lupin was staring at the top of the chart they had made. ‘Task’ was written in capital letters on the chalkboard. “Is there any way to delay the task being given to Draco?”  
  
Severus turned to him. “I doubt if I can. Even if I could, it would not be delayed for too long.”  
  
“Where are you going with this Remus?” Albus asked, leaning against a desk.  
  
Remus appeared to be thinking about something, considering. “It’s just... you said before that Harry is at the core of this problem, but-” He turned to look at the three boards and the events that spanned out from the clustered centre. “-looking here, it seems as if Draco Malfoy has taken that place.” He stood up and shifted his gaze to Severus. “ _Everything_  in your vision begins as an after-effect of that task. From that point, everything spins out of control and, somehow, Harry is absent from it all happening. What we need to do is bring him into it. We can’t make him present when the task is given, so if we could postpone it a little so he’s in the picture when it happens-”  
  
“How?” It was a promising idea, but easier said than done.  
  
“I...” Remus seemed to deflate, “have no idea.”  
  
Severus was biting his lip in thought. “It is a start, though.” The Potions Master suddenly stood, an expression of clarity donning his face. His eyes scanned the board as his mind worked over the variables.  
  
Dumbledore’s gaze went from him to the board and back again. He’d seen that look before. It was the face Severus used when he’d made a breakthrough. “What?” he asked, beyond curious.  
  
Severus turned to him. If Albus didn’t know any better, he’d say the man seemed stunned. “I have an idea,” he said plainly. Dumbledore smiled as Severus returned his ruminating stare to the boards, the middle one in particular. “It’s a long shot, but it could work.”  
  
Remus stared between the two men, not knowing what was going on. Albus seemed pleased, while Severus remained guarded about his thoughts. “We are officially accepting long shots.” Severus focused on him and the black gaze tore a hole straight through him. Remus shifted, a little uncomfortable.  
  
If Severus noticed, he didn’t react on it. “There are four factors here. The Task, Draco, Potter and Draco’s parents.” Remus nodded following along until the last on the list. A quick look at Albus let him know he wasn’t the only one confused.  
  
“His parents?” Albus said for him.  
  
Severus nodded. “Draco is given the task, but his heart is not in it. He uses roundabout ways to get it done – he... he doesn’t  _want_  it anymore. Even his mother knows that, that’s why she asks me to help him. It is because of her actions, and a few of your own, that you ask me to take Draco’s place.”  
  
Remus swallowed, still unable to see Severus raising his wand to Albus. He shook the thought from his head. “But he still goes ahead with it,” Remus stated, eyeing the event scrawled on the right-side board. The words ‘Astronomy Tower’ had been all Severus had been able to write. Dumbledore, so far, hadn’t reacted much upon hearing of his death, but Remus knew how Severus felt. He wouldn’t be able to write it down either.  
  
“Yes, because the Dark Lord has his parents.”  
  
Albus stood. “So we need to get to his parents?”  
  
Severus nodded. “Before the Dark Lord figures out they are his weakness, yes. “  
  
Remus raised a hand minutely, as if he were a student in class. “And how does Harry factor in?”  
  
Severus sighed and turned back to the board. “Harry Potter has no love for the world he is in, so he has nothing to fight for.” He paused to stare at the newspaper Albus had brought with him. The main headline was another in a series slandering Harry Potter’s name and mental capacity, claiming him to be crazy. “He’s a hero,” he said looking up at them both, “so he needs a cause.” The chalkboard made a hollow sound as his finger jabbed against Draco Malfoy’s name, smudging it a little on the board. “We’ll give him one.” He noted their surprised faces. “I told you. Long shot.”  
  
Albus nodded, a little dazed. “Perhaps, but if Draco Malfoy is going to be our linchpin, we need to narrow this down to one small event after we manage to postpone Mr Malfoy’s task. For that event to happen, we need them together.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the Newspaper article in front of him. It was practically the end of July and he really didn’t feel like going back to school in four short weeks. It was bad enough that he had to face the public, facing his peers all day everyday with nowhere to go would be murder. He’d long since given up on getting upset over what the likes of Rita Skeeter had to say about him. The ranting bitch had even gone as far as to mention a sordid relationship with his deceased godfather. He rolled his eyes. The public didn’t bother him and neither did the lies of that blonde, curly-haired liar. The crazy alliteration of the headline only made it that much more ridiculous. 

Slamming it down, he tuned in to what Hermione was saying as she packed her bags. They’d both been invited to spend parts of the summer at Ron’s. Hermione receiving an owl from school this morning had resulted in a rather loud argument between her and Ron. The redhead had stormed off and Harry, figuring Ron had his whole family to soothe his damaged ego, went to see what he could do about his other best friend. “A what programme?” Harry said, as Hermione continued packing. He was sitting on her bed watching her go from drawer to bag and back again. “Why?”  
  
Hermione seemed flustered, probably a combination of the heat of summer paired with her argument with Ron. “It’s a summer programme for the high achievers in our year. If we attend for the month of August, it goes into our school record. Something like this can seriously help when applying for a job later on.”  
  
Harry narrowed his eyes. “And when did this come about? Why are they only telling you about it now?” It was odd. Usually things like this were planned in advance. Didn’t they have to get parental consent to allow her to do something like this?  
  
Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m actually surprised you didn’t get in, what with your-” She was interrupted by an owl pecking at the window. She got up and went to it. “It’s a school bird.” She angled her head to the side. “Harry, it’s addressed to you.”  
  
A confused expression settled on his face. “ _Me_?” he said and came to the window. “Huh,” he added and took the roll of parchment. When he saw the satin ribbon holding it together, an identical shade to the ribbon Hermione had just taken off her missive; he raised his eyebrows and stared at her in surprise.  
  
Her smug look was enough to make him smile. “As I was saying: I’m surprised you didn’t get one too,” she said with a knowing smile.  
  
He tore it open, his eyes spanning from left to right as he read it through. “I got in.” He smiled as he read it through. Charms, Defence and Transfiguration. “It’s signed from Remus.” He grinned now and read through the second piece of parchment behind it. “He sent me a letter to go with it to congratulate me and he says he  _can’t wait to spend more time with you during the rest of the summer_ ” he read directly from the page. He sat down. “Wow.” This solved a lot of problems. Ron and his family were taking a holiday to Rome, the twins’ way of celebrating their first year of success. With Harry sorted for the rest of Summer, he wouldn’t have to keep telling Ron it was alright for him to go and leave him behind when Harry was truly dreading being anywhere near his blood relatives for another month. “Well, I’m definitely going.” This was brilliant. He wouldn’t even have any problems with his aunt and uncle, they’d gladly send him off to school a month early. He grinned.

Hermione nodded. “Good. Then you should start packing. It starts Monday.”

 

Draco Malfoy watched the tall spires topping the towers he could see of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as the carriage rounded it. His trunk was probably already in his dorm room. All he had in his hand was his Invitation into the summer programme for exceptional students. He’d got in for his Potions grade, mainly, followed shortly by Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy, History of Magic and Ancient Runes. There was only the option to take four classes, though, so he’d have to choose the four he wanted the most. His mother had congratulated him and told him to go, definitely, while his father - fresh from escape out of Azkaban (Draco was still surprised the Newspaper hadn’t reported that yet, surely someone had  _noticed_ ) - had simply smiled. Draco grinned in the privacy of his carriage. It wasn’t often his father smiled these days. 

He looked up at the castle walls as the carriage stopped at the main entrance to the school. Four weeks until school started and he was in it already. There was something wrong with him, he was sure of it.   
  
The Great Hall was completely empty, apart from one long table in the centre. All the students who’d exited the train and carriages stared at each other, not sure what to do. Rolling his eyes, Draco walked up to it and sat down near the middle. He was one of three Slytherins there. The other two, Theo and Daphne, followed him and sat on either side, sharing their invitations with him. He passed his to them seeing their looks of envy that he’d got in for six separate grades, when they were each there for two. Once upon a time, he would have been smug about that. As he looked up at Dumbledore gesturing for the others to sit too, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. He’d heard his task had to do with the old man, though he didn’t have specifics.   
  
 _No_ , he thought to himself as he rubbed his arm. It was clear now, but once his task was complete he would be  _in_. He had bigger things to worry about than popularity this year.

 

Compared to a full body of noise, the trickle of students were blessedly quiet. Conversations still occurred, obviously, but the level of noise was one Severus found he could deal with. This plan of working during his vacation, while a hasty and albeit necessary one, still did not sit well with him. The week before had been a flurry of owls and monetary incentives to bring in the teachers and file the appropriate paperwork within the Ministry. He was tired and, really, seeing as it was all for Potter, he felt a little resentment towards the boy for it. He’d walked in just as Dumbledore was speaking to the minuscule student body and sat in the only available seat, next to Lupin.

Lupin, having just finished giving Potter a short wave, turned and greeted Severus with a tired smile, he too had had the same week Severus did and felt a level of camaraderie with the man. Unfortunately Severus did not see it that way and glared in response. Remus sighed and went back to listening. Once the food spread in front of them, Remus went to town like a starving man. Severus frowned.  _Doesn’t he eat at home?_  he thought to himself as he cut into his chicken. They ate in a blessed silence, one Severus was beginning to get used to. Perhaps this summer programme was not all bad.  
  
“Harry is staring.” Severus turned to Lupin. The Defence teacher was watching the student table in front of them. When Severus’ gaze turned to Potter, he saw the boy was indeed watching Draco closely. Draco’s only companions, Nott and Greengrass, were reading through his letter with what appeared to be shock. Draco wasn’t paying much attention, aside from a pleased smirk on his face, and ate as usual. Severus looked down at his watch.  
  
“He will come to visit you,” Severus said as he finished with his plate. He took a sip of his pumpkin juice.  
  
Remus had finished a while ago and was now going through his second slice of beef and vegetable pie. He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “How do you know?”  
  
Severus put down his glass and gave Remus an obvious look. “He hasn’t seen you since his godfather died and he would have only found out about you being here three days ago.” Remus was ready to tell Severus that didn’t really mean anything when he saw an owl fly in and make its way to Harry, most likely his notice of private lessons from Severus. He turned his attention back to Severus as the man stood up. “Make sure you are in your office within the hour and send him down to me as soon as you can.” Severus cocked an eyebrow. “If you can tear yourself away from the food.” Severus left then, making his way towards the student table. Remus looked down at his pie and wondered if he could get some to take back to his office. Leaving it alone, he got up to leave the Hall.

Harry wondered what the point of an owl was when Snape was sitting right over  _there_  glaring at him like he wanted to set him on fire. As if the signature at the bottom of the parchment wasn’t clue enough to who it was from. Harry rolled his eyes. Next to him, Hermione hummed.

“More Occlumency?” she asked once she’d swallowed her pie. It really was delicious.  
  
Harry stared at her. “ _Remedial Potions_ ,” he corrected. He nodded anyway. “Just what I need, someone  _else_  trying to get into my head.”  
  
“Well, you can’t deny now that it isn’t needed.”  
  
Thinking back to Sirius, Harry had to admit that what she said was true. He looked up when Snape stood and walked around the table. It was obvious who he was walking towards. Snape didn’t walk to anyone, unless it was someone from his own precious house. There were only three of them clad in the green uniform here for the programme. One of them was waving Malfoy’s invitation around in stunned amazement. He wondered what was so amazing. Everyone bloody had one, what made his so special? Snape said something in Malfoy’s ear that had the Slytherin freezing in place and then frowning. Then Snape simply left, leaving Malfoy staring after him. He looked down to his slip of parchment.   
  
 _Potter  
Remedial Potions Session, tonight at eight pm.  
Do try to make it on time.  
Professor Severus Snape  MPo_  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. The man signed simple messages to students with his degrees?  _Ostentatious bastard._  He’d have to check the ‘ _Word of the Day_ ’ calendar Hermione gave him to make sure that was the correct use. “What time is the lesson?” Hermione asked him, bringing him back from his curious nature.  
  
“Er.” He consulted his missive. “Eight tonight.”  
  
Hermione frowned at him. “That’s in two hours.”  
  
Harry shrugged. “So?” It’s not like he was going anywhere. He stared at the serving plate wondering if he had time for another slice of apple pie.  _Decisions, decisions..._  
  
Hermione looked at him as if he was particularly slow. He’d seen far too much of that look since first year. He really wished Ron was there. The look didn’t seem so potent when it was shared between them. “ _So_ ,” she said, mimicking him. “We still have to get to the dorms quick enough to choose a bed.”  
  
Raising his eyebrows, Harry said, “Excuse me?”  
  
Hermione turned to him, questioning his surprise until her expression turned deadpan and she slumped. “You weren’t listening to a word Dumbledore said, were you?” She sighed her ‘Woe Is Me’ sigh and turned to him. “Everyone around you is abuzz with the fact that all of us have to share a dorm in the Hufflepuff Tower. It’s the closest out of all of them and has the most room to house all of us combined.”  
  
“Hufflepuff?” Harry said, with a confused expression on his face. He chewed on his pie. Then he paused. “They have a tower?” he said spearing another piece.  _Mmm, whipped cream_.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes. And if you weren’t making doe eyes at Malfoy, you would have heard where it was.”  
  
Nearly choking on his pie, Harry stared at his best friend, appalled. “Making what at  _who_?” His voice was pitchy thanks to the piece of crust that felt like it nearly cut through the soft walls of his throat.  
  
“Whom,” she corrected, otherwise ignoring his indignant question. “Come on. We can pick up more at the kitchens. It’s on the same corridor as the Hufflepuff entrance. We’re going to get our beds. Dumbledore said we would get our schedules tomorrow morning at breakfast.” She got up and drained the last of her pumpkin juice.

Hufflepuff Tower was actually really close. The corridor it was based on stood on the other side of the Great Hall and opposite the steps leading down to the Slytherin dungeons. He stopped as soon as he got in, scrambling in after Hermione said the password, and looked around. The Common Room was, in one word, yellow. Harry just knew he would actually crave the colour red after being around here for too long. He was sure if Ron were there, he’d say the same thing. Standing beside the bed he chose, he found it odd, looking out of his window to see the lake to the South of the castle. If he squinted, he could even make out part of the train tracks that led to Hogsmeade station, just like he could squint to see the quaint little town to the North from his bedroom in Gryffindor.

His only problem was that he and four other boys would be sharing a room. He’d chosen a room higher than the fourth floor from the Common Room. He knew from experience in Gryffindor Tower that any noise going on down there would make its way up no higher than the third floor and wondered if, in Hufflepuff, that would be enough distance. He’d have to chance it. He eyed his bed. There were quite a few Ravenclaws in the Hall, which he supposed could be expected, as well as a few Hufflepuffs. Territory was about to be claimed. He was the first up here because of Hermione, so he’d picked the bed furthest from the door and closest to the far wall.   
  
The dorms in Hufflepuff were not round like the rising towers in Gryffindor and Harry wondered why as he packed away his trunk. As soon as he’d chosen his bed, his trunk had appeared at the bottom with a soft thump.  _Magic is brilliant_ , he thought for perhaps the millionth time since he’d set foot in the school at age eleven. Hermione came in moments later, telling him she’d already chosen her bed and locked the area with a spell so no one could evict her without notice. Harry had frowned at that, wondering exactly what Hermione was on. It hadn’t stopped him from asking her how to do the spell on his own bed, though, so no one could steal it while he was gone. He’d then made his way to the Defence corridor to see Remus. He’d caught sight of him in the Hall, but other than a quick wave, after his introduction, the man had disappeared, following a short quiet talk with Dumbledore.  
  
Remus looked up as Harry entered after knocking. His smile was warm and welcoming. Harry had missed it during the holiday he’d had so far. If it weren’t for this programme, he would be sitting at the Dursley’s wondering about Ron’s holiday in Rome.  
  
“Harry! Come in, come in.”  
  
“Hi, Remus,” he said, easily giving the man a hug. “How have you been?” he asked warmly.  
  
Remus gave him an agreeable shrug, his pleased, but tired, smile in place. “Oh, same old, I suppose. How about you?” He propped his head up on his hand, laying the other down across his work.  
  
“Meh, same craziness, really.” Harry sighed. “I have lessons with Snape in about an hour, I was passing time before then. I have to make my way to the dungeons soon.”  
  
Remus knew of Harry’s lessons. He also knew that right now Severus had Draco Malfoy in the dungeons waiting for Harry to arrive. They were all counting on Harry’s innate curiosity and his penchant for eavesdropping. Remus hadn’t believed Harry would fall for it, but after witnessing his inquisitive stare at Malfoy during dinner, he was beginning to think Severus knew the boy better than Remus did. He’d been given strict instructions to stay where he was because Harry was bound to visit him before, if not after dinner. If he did, Remus was instructed to send Harry down as soon as possible. Severus had a charm in the corridor to alert him to Harry’s presence.  
  
Heaving a rather convincing put-upon sigh, Remus collected some random sheets of parchment. “Well, I’m afraid you may have to make your way there early.”  
  
Harry frowned. “Why?”  
  
Remus gave Harry a helpless smile. “I have a meeting with Albus, Harry. To discuss my... er, condition. We need to make schedules, and I need to give Professor Snape my lunar calendar so he can make my potion every month. All precautions are being taken this time. We don’t want any accidents like in your third year.” Remus looked down putting all his misery into one look. “ _I_  don’t want any accidents.”  
  
Harry nodded, his eyes portraying understanding. “Are you going now?” he asked him.  
  
 _Hmm_ , Remus supposed he should if Harry was actually going to leave. Maybe Dumbledore would have something for him to do in his office until Severus arrived. He nodded. “I can walk with you to the Entrance Hall, it’s on my way.” He winced mentally and consciously toned down his ‘casualness’. Harry had been at the school now for nearly six years, he knew that the Entrance Hall was on the way to the North of the castle. “Shall we?”

Harry waited outside the dungeon classroom where he was supposed to have his ‘Remedial Potions’ lesson. The door was locked and he stopped himself from knocking once he heard voices inside. One of them he recognised as the deep annoying baritone of his Potion’s professor. The other sounded very familiar, but he couldn’t place it from outside the door. 

At least until, “ _You can’t be serious? He wants me to what?_ ” came through loud and clear.  
  
Harry had paused. That was the first time since he’d arrived that either of the voices had risen high enough for him to hear them completely. He definitely recognised the other voice and his suspicions were proven correct when Snape answered the incredulous question with a reprimanding, “ _Draco._ ”  
  
There was a spluttering sound, as if Malfoy didn’t know what to say. Their voices returned to normal and, curiosity getting the better of him, Harry got up from where he waited and pressed his ear to the door. “ _I mean, I knew the Headmaster had something to do with it, but... how am I supposed to do something like_ that?  _I – Professor._ ” There was a twist in Harry’s stomach, one he hadn’t felt before. Malfoy sounded as hopeless as Harry did a few months ago. He wondered what he was being told to do, and by whom. He frowned a little at the murmuring inside. He’d give anything for some Extendable Ears right about now. He should have taken that emergency kit the twins had made up for him when he had the chance.  
  
Then Snape delivered a final blow, speaking loud and clear. “ _Draco. He has your parents. He’s threatening to kill them. He said your mother would be first._ ” It was all Harry needed to hear. It didn’t matter what Malfoy was being told to do, whoever had his parents (and it didn’t take Hermione to figure out who that was), had the upper hand in making Malfoy do whatever he wanted. The way the blond mentioned them at every turn, the way his excitement rose whenever he got to go home, how his eyes lit up whenever he had mail... people could say what they wanted, Malfoy adored them to the ends of the Earth.  
  
“ _My-_ ” If possible, Malfoy sounded more hopeless than before. It seemed those words were all Malfoy needed to hear, too. Harry could hear the shaky exhale. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt sorrow for the resignation Malfoy showed when he said, “ _How long do I have?_ ”  
  
There was a pause and Harry frowned, pressing his ear to the door wondering if he was missing something. “ _Until he wants it completed, or until he actively harms one of them?_ ”  
  
Harry winced. That was a bit harsh. “ _The – the second one._ ”  
  
There was a sigh. “ _Honestly, I don’t know._ ” Harry bit his lip and shook his head. “ _Hold on._ ” Through the door, Harry could hear footsteps. They were getting closer.  
  
 _Shit_.   
  
Harry backed up to sit against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. He made himself look casual, tipping his head back against the dark brick and staring at the ceiling in time before Snape ripped open the door. “You’re early.” Harry dropped his head down to look at his professor with boredom, as if he’d been sitting there for ages waiting, as if he hadn’t just heard the second most depressing news of the century.  
  
He didn’t have to fake the disdain, though. That came naturally. “You told me to be on time. Leaving early is the only way to convince myself I have to be here.”  
  
Snape gave him a dirty look before looking inside. A thought seemed to occur to him. “You were eavesdropping.”  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I heard voices, so I waited outside.” He gestured to his bored state. “Believe me, if you cut into our ‘Remedial Potions’ time, it’s no skin off my nose.”  
  
“Remedial potions?” he heard behind Snape and focused on the blond now stepping out into the cool corridor. His eyes were the same grey he’d seen countless times before, but they were dulled and the edges of his eyes were tinged with red, as if he’d been rubbing them.  
  
 _As if he’s been crying_. Harry bit into his bottom lip in thought.  
  
Malfoy turned to Snape. “He’s going to be in our sessions? Isn’t the point of this programme to accept students into the subjects they’re actually  _good_  at?” That superior tone in Malfoy’s voice set his teeth on edge. Harry felt the familiar stirrings of dislike for the boy he’d been commiserating with not two minutes before.  
  
Snape eyed Harry snidely. “Part of the programme allows students gifted in one area and lacking in others the chance to improve their grades. Potter’s Potions grade from his OWLs last term was not up to par, and with his presence here for Defence, Transfiguration and Charms, he agreed to being tutored to raise it. Since no other students opted to improve their grade, I have not opened a remedial class for anyone.” Snape let a sly grin spread on his face. “But he practically _begged_  me.”  
  
Harry snorted.  _The fuck I did_.   
  
When Snape turned to him in barely disguised fury, Harry fixed his face to a blank, bored expression and looked off down the corridor.  
“Go back to the dorm, Draco, we will talk later.” Malfoy glanced between the two, obvious confusion displayed on his face as he walked down the corridor towards the main entrance Hall. Harry watched him go until the dark of the corridor swallowed his form. His shoulders were drooped, carrying the same level of hopelessness Harry had heard in his tone earlier. “Tonight, Potter, I do have things to do.” The voice was like cold water, snapping him out of his thoughts. Harry looked back at the  _Master of Potions_  to see him standing against the open door, leaving a space for him to pass.  
  
Despite himself, Harry couldn’t help but ask. “Professor... is there something wrong with Malfoy?” Harry only broke his gaze with the corridor once he stepped over the threshold, turning instead to Snape. It was likely he wouldn’t get an answer. No, scratch that, it was likely he would get an answer, just a snide one that made him feel stupid, but it was worth a shot. Malfoy had been cocky as shit at dinner. And Harry still felt the urge to roll his eyes whenever he thought of the display. He only wished he had someone who understood, like Ron, to share his thoughts with. Thinking now on the sullen form he’d seen walking back to the dorms, he wasn’t sure what to think. Pair that with what he’d just heard, his mind was going crazy with information.  
  
The door closed behind him and a silent pause answered him. He was convinced he wouldn’t get an answer until Snape said, “If there was, which I’m not saying there is, do you honestly think that I’m going to tell you?”   
  
It wasn’t so much the words, but the tone that made Harry feel like his IQ had dropped by ten points. He sighed, thinking of the blond at dinner, the little he’d seen before Hermione dragged him out to claim their beds. “He’s really pale and he keeps grabbing his arm,” he said, hoping that, if anything, would get the Potions Master to pay attention.  
  
Snape frowned. He hadn’t noticed that. “Then perhaps he needs some Sun and his arm hurts, Potter.” He crossed his arms and waited. He’d underestimated the power of this boy’s curiosity. He was like a dog with a bone. A big, blond bone.  
  
“Is he...”  
  
Snape waited, knowing what was to follow. This compassionate side was one of two redeeming traits the boy had received from his mother and it was part of why he was softening to him, but when Harry didn’t complete his sentence, he rolled his eyes. “I see you’re as articulate as ever.” He turned to pick up his wand from the desk behind him and when he turned back, he paused.  
  
Harry was staring at him with an almost sad expression, but it was soon replaced by a look of determination as Harry shook his head and looked away. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” The Gryffindor stood straight with his wand at the ready.  
  
If he was going for a career in the DMLE, he certainly had the stance down. A couple years older and Snape could almost believe he was one. Severus cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes keenly. “No, it is not.” He tried to sound regretful, as if the sad puppy look Potter had tried to hide was what had got to him. That got Harry’s attention. “But, as he says to me like a stuck record. It’s none of your business.” He allowed some of his anxiety to show and then quickly turned away, as if he did not want Harry to see. For effect, he heaved a sigh. “Now, wand up. Show me what you remember.” Almost immediately, he called out, “ _Legilimens_.”  
  
Instantly, Harry was on guard and, just to spread the icing a bit thicker on the cake, Severus backed off and let him in as soon as the brunet chanted  _Occlumens_. He brought up memories of Draco giving him a pitiful look after Snape reminded him of what he had to do to get his mark, of what was at stake.  _“He has your parents.”_  He then brought up the conversation he’d had with Dumbledore earlier. _“Are they still sympathetic to the cause?” Snape sat perched on the edge of his desk facing the Sword of Gryffindor on the wall. He crossed his arms. “I believe their... sympathy is waning every day.” Dumbledore nodded. “Is there any way to shift their priorities?” Snape heaved a sigh in his memory. “There may be, if they can be convinced to leave.” A quirked eyebrow from his mentor. “How?” he said. Snape shook his head. “I don’t know.” He scoffed in jest. “Short of kidnapping, I don’t think they believe there is a way out.”_  
  
That should do it. He cut the little twit off, backing away as if he’d seriously reamed him. Immediately, he grabbed hold of Harry’s shirt, grasping onto his tie in one go and shook him. “You forget  _everything_  you just saw, do you hear me?”  
  
Still rattled by what he’d learned, Harry nodded, his green eyes wide.  
  
Seeming somewhat calmed, Snape gave a solemn nod and then gratified the Gryffindor with a speculative look. “You’re getting better.” He let him go and walked away. “Practice. I will see you tomorrow.” Potter straightened from his stance and haltingly put away his wand. Just as the Gryffindor was turning to leave, Severus cut in with, “Potter.” When the boy turned to him, his brow marred by wariness, he added. “This goes without saying, but I am warning you. Leave Draco Malfoy alone.”  
  
 _There it is,_  his mind couldn’t help but notice, pleased.  
  
Having Draco Malfoy as their linchpin, a term Remus had helpfully supplied, was far too broad and their need to get Harry to care for the blond was too broad an aspect too. In the end, Remus had given another piece of valuable insight. Harry Potter was insatiably curious, his years at Hogwarts so far could attest to that. He’d been determined to prove Severus was in league with the Dark Lord in his first year, simply because he’d had a suspicion of his involvement. He’d used Polyjuice Potion to get into the Slytherin Common Room because he’d been suspicious of Draco Malfoy being the heir of Slytherin. His third year had consisted of trying to actively search for Sirius Black because he’d been under the impression that the man had betrayed his parents. He’d even rushed to the man’s aid because he’d thought he was in danger in his fifth year.  
  
No, Harry Potter caring enough about Draco Malfoy was too broad to be a linchpin. If they wanted him to want to be around the blond, they didn’t have to force the issue, they simply had to make him  _suspicious._  
  
Potter’s face became stoic and resolute, as if he were affronted by the suggestion, but Severus knew better. If there was anything that would confirm  _something_  was going on, it would be that warning. Before, all Harry had overheard was some worried whispers, but now, he had a genuine reason to be suspicious and if anything spurred the boy on, it was being told  _not_  to interfere. Severus suspected Draco would be the centre of a lot of Potter’s attention very soon and Draco’s genuine confusion and annoyance would only be fuel to the fire. Snape’s acting skills were world class as he leaned heavily against his desk, trying to look as winded as he could.  _I deserve a bloody Merlin’s First Class Award for this._  He heard a quiet ‘Goodnight,’ followed by the door closing and snorted. “Bloody Gryffindors.”  
  
Outside in the corridor, Harry couldn’t think. He couldn’t comprehend what he’d just seen. He stood outside the dungeon classroom for a good ten minutes running through everything and sorting through the scenes in his mind. He sat down on the short wall of the alcove to gather his thoughts together. Malfoy was in some serious trouble, the kind which he couldn’t talk or bluff his way out off. Harry rubbed his chest, a dull ache beginning in his ribcage. It felt tight. He sat and bent forward, tucking his head between his legs and stared at the cool grey of the floor. Voldemort had done many things, but using Hogwarts students, the ones that weren’t even considered adults in the Wizarding World to carry out his dirty work... that was taking things to an all new low.  
  
He was bringing his war to Harry’s home and Harry was less than happy about that. Despite not exchanging anything more than insults and punches with Malfoy for five years, Harry was pretty sure he knew the blond well enough to know that any task set to him by Voldemort was one he was incapable of carrying out. Malfoy was a coward. He may act tough and in charge when backed by his friends, but this time, Malfoy was alone and more or less being blackmailed into committing a crime that, from the sounds of things, he didn’t want to commit.   
  
Standing up, he walked back towards Hufflepuff Tower, the entire episode replaying over and over in his mind. He muttered the password loud enough for the portrait to hear and walked into the sickeningly yellow room. Shaking his head, he ignored the calls of his name and went straight to his dormitory. He spotted Malfoy sitting on the bed next to his and froze, wanting to say something, but couldn’t speak.   
  
 _Leave Draco Malfoy alone,_  Snape’s voice echoed in his head.  
  
Malfoy turned to him, his eyes narrowing as Harry walked closer, obviously expecting some sort of confrontation. Harry suddenly realised he didn’t have the energy for this, not with everything running around his head like a marathon. He’d say something or do something he would regret in the long run.  
  
He’d been spending way too much alone time with Hermione.  
  
Taking off his jumper and throwing it on the trunk at the bottom of his bed, he took out his wand and muttered the counter-charm Hermione had coached him through three hours ago. He shucked off his shoes as the curtains fell apart and he fell back on the bed, drawing the curtains around him. Through it all, Malfoy watched him in silence and shock. Harry smiled, despite himself. It wasn’t often he shocked the blond. In the relative quiet of his bed, Harry stared at the canopy above him. He took off his glasses and put them beside his head. Malfoy was a lot of things, but all in all, he was just a sixteen year old boy with no idea what he was doing and no matter how many excuses Harry could find to  _not_  care about what Malfoy was going through, at the end of the day, the only thought that flooded his mind was clear.  
  
 _Malfoy has been given a task by Voldemort, and he has to do it or else his parents will be killed._  
  
“Fuck.”

He watched him. During their shared Transfiguration classes, and during lunch every day, he watched him. Malfoy was a creature of habit, it seemed. He woke up, went to breakfast, attended classes and went to lunch, then spent the rest of the day in the library. Only students like Hermione and some of the Ravenclaw students in the programme had classes after lunch. After a week of watching him, Harry now knew Malfoy had classes after lunch on Wednesdays and Thursdays for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, two of three classes Malfoy had that Harry didn’t share with him. 

He’d heard on the grapevine that the blond had got in for six different subjects and had an option to choose four. It certainly explained the reactions of his fellow Slytherins the night of the welcome dinner. Hermione had blanched at the news, since she’d only got in for five. Harry had smiled at her woe, wiping the smile away just after Malfoy had caught him. He’d got nothing more than a cocked eyebrow for his behaviour.  
  
Something else he noticed was how Malfoy kept staring at Dumbledore. The Headmaster seemed unperturbed by it, though Harry knew he’d noticed. Harry frowned. It was odd how Malfoy stared, like he was looking for something. This task Voldemort had set obviously had something to do with the Headmaster and nothing good could come of that. Harry had been over everything he’d seen and heard a hundred times already and it made sense. Malfoy’s worry that he couldn’t do something like ‘that’ and the fact that his parents had to be held at ransom in order for Malfoy to be ‘convinced’. It was glaringly obvious.  
  
 _Dumbledore is the only wizard alive that Voldemort is afraid of_ , Harry thought to himself as he continued climbing a set of steps. He’d decided on a walk just before dinner, since he wasn’t so hungry. Being outside and by himself had proved to be cathartic for Harry. He’d taken up running over the summer before he’d ended up at Ron’s. It felt good, tiring himself out so that he didn’t have a chance to think anymore.  
  
It was getting colder so he knew he was approaching the outdoors. Dinner had already started, and he knew Hermione would be worried, but she was easily appeased. He’d swing by the kitchens later too, if he was peckish. Instead, he pushed against the heavy wooden door at the top of the stairs, his eyes brightening with the sight of the sky, bright while the sun was setting. He took a deep breath and closed the door behind him. A sharp wind blew, ruffling through his hair. He was facing west and could see the gold of the sun reflecting off the posts on the Quidditch Pitch.  _Wow_ , the view was breath-taking.  
  
Walking to the edge, he leaned carefully against a rampart in thought. Snape’s warning was but a distant memory now. He couldn’t leave Malfoy alone, not now that he knew something was going on and it involved Dumbledore.  _Leave Draco Malfoy alone._  
  
Harry scoffed as he made his way around the roof towards the South of the castle.  _Like hell I will_. The words circulated so many times that they didn’t even hold meaning anymore. He could see the water rippling as the giant squid moved around and he smiled.  _Must be nice to not have to worry about all of this._  He sighed again. His theories, as solid as he believed them to be, needed confirmation and the only way to get it would be to confront the blond himself. He eyed the giant squid with envy.  
  
Why was life so hard?

“I’m sorry, what?” The feigned ignorance was getting annoying. Harry shifted in his seat. He tried to ignore the creeping smirk that was blooming at the corner of Malfoy’s mouth. He wasn’t staring, but it was distracting.

“Look, forget it. I don’t even know why I asked.” He stood up from the library table and made to walk away. “Prat.”  
  
The blond’s eyes narrowed. “You asked because I’m at Apprentice Level and no one else can compare.” That made Harry pause.  _Apprentice level?_  He didn’t know that.  
  
“And so modest, too,” he said and kept on walking. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll just beg Dumbledore to let me off this extra credit crap. Aurorhood isn’t so appealing to me anymore anyway.”  
  
Draco scoffed. “Oh, of course, the Golden Boy can’t do something, so he gets to walk away. If only everyone had that advantage.” The words, to anyone else, sounded snarky, but Harry caught the undercurrent of truth underneath it. Most likely because he  _knew_  there was a truth behind it to find. Harry turned around to see the blond staring at him in disdain.  
  
“You probably could if you took advantage of who you know.” He received a cocked eyebrow and silence as an answer and let a tiny grin surface on his lips. “See you ‘round, Malfoy.”  
  
He exited the library and turned to his dorm, only to correct himself  _yet again_  and turn towards the Hufflepuff dorm instead. He’d hoped that after a week, he would’ve got used to it, but he still found himself heading in the wrong direction. It was getting on his nerves now.  
  
By the time he arrived at the bee hive, the Common Room was already full of people. There was only two hours until dinner and only those who had classes were absent, except for Malfoy, who seemed to live in the library when he had nowhere else to be. The other two Slytherins, Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass, were sitting in a corner doing their homework.  
  
 _Are all Slytherins this studious?_  he thought to himself as he walked upstairs to take a shower. He’d go for a walk before dinner and then attempt some homework before bed. He had to start his project work for Transfiguration soon anyway. They only had three weeks left to complete it all. He needed to find his partner, Terry, later to decide what they would be working on.  
  
When he came back into the dorm after his shower, he found Malfoy sitting on his bed reading. He rolled his eyes. “Is that all Slytherins do? Read?” he said before his mind had a chance to catch up. He went to his trunk, opening it to cover his flush, but seriously, it was like living with Hermione. He pulled out a t-shirt and hauled it on over his head quickly.  
  
Blind because of the material he could actually hear the sneer in Malfoy’s voice. “I suppose Gryffindors aren’t so familiar with the practice.”  
  
Finally getting it on, Harry straightened out the material before searching for a pair of jeans. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, would I?” Harry said snippily.  
  
Draco cocked an eyebrow and turned to him. “The subjects you are here for are heavily steeped in practical experience, as are most of your housemates’. Explain to me again, how am I wrong?”  
  
Harry pulled on his jeans and rolled his eyes.  _How on earth would he know that? It’s not like he talks to any of them._ “Hermione.” He snapped the lid of his trunk shut and sat on it to pull on his trainers.  
  
This time, Draco rolled his eyes and went back to his text book. “There is an exception to every rule.”  
  
Harry snorted and dropped his towel on the lid of his trunk after partially drying his hair. “Of course there is.”  
  
Harry was tying his shoelaces when he heard a curious and far too casual, “Where are you going?”  
  
Harry huffed and straightened up, turning to Malfoy he asked, “What do you care, you’ve made it more than clear there is no truce to be had here.” He stood up.  
  
Draco paused, watching Harry walk across the room to the door. “When exactly did you declare a  _truce_ , Potter?” Harry stared at him in silence. “Oh, you  _are_  joking? You mean when you begged me for help?” Harry watched Draco’s hand stretch out and point, most likely, in the general direction of the library to symbolise the event he was talking about.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes heavenward, fortifying himself with a deep breath. “Exactly. Me. Asking  _you_.” He made an obvious gesture.  
  
Draco simply stared at him. “And I’m, somehow, supposed to translate that out-of-the-blue request as an olive branch?” He turned back to his book. “Your delusions are troubling.”  
  
Harry shook his head. “If you say so.” He took hold of the door handle and turned it, hearing the latch slide out of the frame. He paused for a moment. “For your information, I’m going for a walk.” He turned. “You want to come?” he said in a flat monotone.  
  
Draco was already looking at him, but a frown was steadily replacing the look of curiosity that blanketed it before. His eyes narrowed warily. “Is that Gryffindor-speak for: ‘I’m declaring a truce?’ I have to be sure of what I’m turning down this time.”  
  
Harry snorted and shook his head. “Wow. Why did I bother?” He stepped outside smiling where Malfoy wouldn’t see him as he said, “I have to meet Dumbledore in his office anyway. Might as well take the time to beg to drop a subject. Don’t wait up.” He closed the door slowly.  
  
 _Five. Four. Three-_  
  
“You know where his office is?”  
  
Harry grinned.  _Far too easy_. He’d been banking on Malfoy’s sudden interest in Dumbledore to pull him in. The blond’s curious nature could rival his own, if all the times he’d followed Harry and his friends to get them into trouble was anything to go by. Wiping the smile off his face, he stuck his head back into the room, watching Malfoy like he’d just asked if the sky was blue. “You don’t?”  
  
Malfoy was looking at him the same way. He shut his book and swung his legs over the side of his bed. “Neither does anyone else. Unless they’ve had a reason to be there,” he said, watching Harry with an obvious leer.   
  
Harry ignored the look. He’d been there so often, all he had to do was start guessing the names of sweets to get in. “Whatever you say, Malfoy.”  
  
He was walking along the corridor to the Common Room when he heard his name called. Honestly, Malfoy was far too predictable. “Where exactly are you going on this walk?”  
  
Harry frowned and turned around. He was surprised to see Malfoy now had on a long jumper and a pair of shoes. “Where  _exactly_?” he asked, like the blond was crazy. Though, really, if he was asking for an itinerary, Harry thought that just maybe, Malfoy kind of was. “I don’t know, Malfoy, it’s a walk. It’s spontaneous.”  
  
Draco was biting on his lower lip. “But you’re ending it at the Headmaster’s office?”  
  
Harry continued to stare at him like he was a few Knuts short of a Sickle. “I might do, yeah, or I’ll go after dinner. Why, you want to see it?”  
  
Draco walked up to him, eyeing him like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how to put it. “Why don’t you go there first, if it’s so important?” Since Harry knew that all Malfoy wanted to do was scope out the location of Dumbledore’s office, he didn’t find the request so strange, but he wasn’t supposed to know, so he played along.  
  
“Maybe because I was already planning on going out for my walk before you so spectacularly turned me down in the library-”  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  
  
“-and I don’t want to cut into it because of school. Somewhere I don’t even have to be during my summer vacation.”  
  
“I did not-” Draco shut his eyes looking away as if Harry’s very presence gave him a headache. While he wasn’t looking, Harry let out a triumphant smile and walked away.  
  
“Are you coming or not?”

Somehow, Draco found himself outside, walking next to Harry Potter with no clue as to how Potter had tricked him into it. It was odd, Draco decided, walking around the school grounds with Harry Potter. They had absolutely nothing to talk about and kept getting stares from other students as they walked by.

“People are staring. Maybe I’ll be in the paper tomorrow being declared as legally insane.” He kicked a small stone out of the way as he ambled along slowly.  
  
“I think that ship has sailed,” Draco said as he turned around to see the group they’d just passed. They were watching them and whispering to each other. “Merlin, don’t they have anything to do?” he said turning back and brushing some hair away that flew into his eyes and mouth.  
  
Harry turned to see what he’d been looking at. “They’re doing it, Malfoy.” When Draco turned to stare at Potter, the brunet was smiling oddly. So strange.  
  
“Do you do this a lot? Wander around aimlessly? Though I suppose it makes sense, with your name and all.” He crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
Harry laughed. “Pottering around, huh?” He stopped at the edge of the lake and began walking towards the rocks. Draco rolled his eyes at the sudden change in direction.  
  
“I’m beginning to understand a few things about you Potter,” he said as he watched Harry climb up a few rocks on the cliff face, find he couldn’t climb anymore and then reverse a bit and use another path.  
  
“Is that so?” Harry said. He stopped and turned to the blond standing securely on flat ground watching him with interest.  
  
Draco nodded. “You approach life much like you do your ‘walks’. You find an obstacle; you leave it and turn to something else. It’s most frustrating.”  
  
“Is that why you’re not following me?” He stopped climbing and turned to him, putting his hands in his pockets.  
  
Draco scoffed. “I am not one of your lackeys. Curiosity brought me here, not a willingness to scale sharp rocks.” He turned away to walk back up the hill to the castle.  
  
Harry watched him walk and quickly scaled down. “Does that mean you’ll help me?”  
  
Draco stopped and turned around. “Help you with what?”  
  
“My Potions grade.” Harry watched as Draco cocked an eyebrow.  
  
“You do realise you have a Potions Master helping you?” he said. “Most people don’t have that. Why on earth would you want me?” Draco crossed his arms and frowned thoughtfully.  
  
Harry was very much aware of the fact he had a  _Potions Master_  as a tutor, Lengthy degree-filled signatures notwithstanding. He also wasn’t particularly keen on actually doing any Potions either, since the whole remedial class was a ruse, but this was the only way he could find to engage the blond in continuous conversation without causing suspicion. Harry smiled. “Well, if I had to choose-”  
  
“Potter – do you like me or something?”  
  
The words had Harry’s thoughts screeching to a halt. “What?” Harry asked gobsmacked.  
  
“I’ve been through this before with some students in the lower years. Pretending to need help in order to spend time with me.” He sighed, woe-begotten, and stared at him. “Forgive me, but this ‘let’s have a truce’, thing, followed by asking me for help when it’s quite obvious you don’t need it, plus the fact that you practically stripped for me in the dorm just now and then invited me on a walk before dinner... it’s all very suspicious.”  
  
Harry stared. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. The mere thought of liking Malfoy  _that way_  had honestly never occurred to him. Had he been making that impression? He thought back to the library. He didn’t think his behaviour said he was coming onto the boy. In the dorm, he’d gone to take a shower believing Draco would stay in the library until it closed, like he always did. He hadn’t stripped for him. In fact, he’d even put on his boxers and jeans with the towel still on, while hiding behind his trunk. As for the walk, he’d been aiming for information on Dumbledore to be bait for an exchange. What was Malfoy on about?  
  
He paused.  
  
On the other hand, he really wasn’t looking forward to actually brewing potions. He couldn’t believe how low he’d stooped. “What would you say if I told you, you were right?”

“Draco if you would wait a moment, please. I need to speak with you.” Draco looked up from packing away his equipment. The rest of the class filed out orderly, while Draco waited for the door to close. He waited quietly as Severus cleared his own surface and wiped down the chalk board, his hands fidgeting nervously. A bomb had been dropped on him three days ago and he hadn’t spoken with the Gryffindor since. He’d brought up Potter liking him as a joke. He hadn’t expected the look of intense concentration and subsequent timid reply. It was far too much to comprehend.

 _Harry Potter likes me._  
  
In other circumstances this would have been a brilliant discovery, one he wouldn’t hesitate to exploit. Something was holding him back, though. Quite possibly the fact that he had to kill the boy’s mentor. Draco sighed. Life was unfair.  
  
“Are you alright, Draco?”  
  
His gaze snapped up to his professor and Head of House. “Yes, Professor Snape,” he replied.  
  
Severus eyed him still and Draco shifted in place. He received a cocked eyebrow in return. “You are lying.”  
  
“I –”  _How should I handle this_ , he wondered. Snape was a beneficial ally to have, but something like  _this_ , like Harry Potter liking and possibly loving him? He didn’t think Snape, of all people, would understand, or want to listen.  
  
“Whatever it is, Draco. I would like to help.” Severus watched Draco intently. He’d seen the glances Potter kept sending him. Moreover, he’d seen the answering glances Draco sent back whenever he thought the brunet wasn’t looking. It was curious, but not unexpected. Snape had foreseen it, proving to Lupin exactly how omnipotent he really was. Dumbledore, too, was pleased and had instructed Severus to brew another batch of his ‘Foreseeing Potion’ as he’d taken to calling it. When he’d asked what had happened to the last phial he’d given the man, he hadn’t received a verbal answer but a significant stare.  
  
Draco was watching him, deliberating on whether or not he should tell Severus what had happened in the last week. Likely it had nothing to do with his progress on his task, which, as he’d known from the potion, Draco was not keen on starting anytime soon, but more to do with the crazy way Potter was acting. When Draco still did not answer, Snape decided to get the ball rolling himself.  
  
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Potter, would it?” The snap-turn of Draco’s head was almost comical.  
  
“How did you know?” he asked, astonished that Severus had even tried to guess.  
  
Snape rolled his eyes. “I told him to stay away from you. Obviously, that was the worst thing to say, as that boy never could resist breaking a rule.”   
  
Draco took his bag off his lap and laid it on the surface next to him. “Why did you have to tell him that anyway?” He crossed his arms and leaned them onto the edge of the desk, eyeing Snape curiously.  
  
Instead of incriminating himself, and perhaps taking two steps backward in the plan they’d outlined, Snape asked, “Has he approached you?”  
  
Draco nodded, his demeanour torn and confused. “Er – yeah. He asked for help with the Potions work you keep setting him.” Snape frowned, but for a different reason than Draco believed. “I told him that was ridiculous. That, since he has you as a teacher there was no point in asking me. It was a guise anyway.”  
  
 _No kidding._  “Oh?” Severus said leaning back against another row of desks. “How so?” He had to give the boy credit. If there was one way of getting close to Draco Malfoy, appealing to his vain side and asking him for something was a good way of doing it. He’d underestimated Potter.  
  
“He said later on it was his way of forming a truce between us. He seems to have forgotten my father went to prison because of him.”  
  
Snape stared off to his left, his gaze unseeing as he thought it through.  _Why?_  The question rolled around in his mind as Draco kept talking.  
  
“When I told him no, he said he’d just have to go to Dumbledore and beg him to drop your class. Did you know that he knows where the Headmaster’s office is?” Snape’s gaze suddenly snapped to him, his eyes narrowed.   
  
“Did he tell you that?” Draco frowned, confused by his extreme gesture. He nodded nonetheless. Snape hummed, “I see.”  
  
“He told me he likes me.”  
  
Snape’s eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. He had  _definitely_  underestimated Potter. “I see.”  
  
Draco shook his head, confused. “You see what?”  
  
It was certainly unexpected, but not altogether useless. Snape chuckled. If that was the way Potter was playing it. Fine. “I see he’s grown a pair.” He stood and rounded the desks to get to his own at the front of the classroom.   
  
“What?” Draco asked.  
  
Snape sighed, as if put upon. He was getting good at this. “The first night you got here, do you remember? Potter had a remedial session with me?” When Draco nodded, he continued. “He was watching you. I noticed and called him on it, he blushed. Quite spectacularly. He refused to speak for the rest of the lesson. But he did ask if you were alright, because you looked pale during the welcome dinner. Odd behaviour, but I suppose it makes sense now.” There. That wasn’t _entirely_  untrue.  
  
Draco sat back and stared at the desk before him. He hadn’t known before, but apparently he really, honestly hadn’t believed Potter until now. But Severus had no reason to lie.  
  
“But that aside, how is your task going?”  
  
Draco immediately felt a build-up of pressure around the back of his skull. Snape watched him as his shoulders slumped. “It’s going.”  
  
Snape gave him a disapproving look. “And what is that supposed to mean?”  
  
“It means that it’s there weighing on my every thought, but I haven’t put anything into motion yet. I had thought if I got the location of Dumbledore’s office...” He trailed off, not knowing how to handle or speak of what he was feeling at that moment. “He’s – I mean...” He sighed. “A week ago, I probably wouldn’t have hesitated, but now... Potter is-” He gave a frustrated moan and grabbed his hair, raking his fingers through it and holding onto his head like it was about to explode. “I don’t know what to do!”  
  
Snape was shocked for the second time in half an hour. “Draco...” He honestly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I think you need to go back to your dorm.” He stood. “If what you are thinking is what I believe you are thinking... you should stay away from him.”  
  
Draco was nodding. “I know I should. I do.” He was saying it resolutely, but Snape knew it wasn’t going to happen. He was counting on it not happening, not if Potter had anything to do with it.

Potter had a very sunny smile. Draco tried to ignore it as the brunet sat across from him in the library. He was sitting by the window in the afternoon sun, enjoying what he could while they still had two weeks left of this summer programme. Autumn was fast approaching, judging from the chilliness in the air. British weather was so confusing. He folded the letter he was holding so he could shove it in his bag.

“Mail, then?” Potter said to him and he shifted in his seat as the Gryffindor started to empty his bag. He frowned. “Who’s it from?”  
  
Draco continued to frown. “A friend – why are you unpacking your bag here?” he cut himself off.  
  
“Because I’m about to do my homework,” Harry said obviously. “Which friend?” he continued.  
  
“Why does it matter?” He didn’t even bother telling Potter to move. He wouldn’t listen. It seemed in the last week, since he’d spoken to Professor Snape, and tried to heed his advice, Potter seemed determined to follow him around. Even Granger had picked up on it and spoken to him. Nevertheless, Potter ignored her. Draco wondered if Potter had explained his sudden obsession with following him around to Granger.  
  
“I was just curious.” And that stupid pout. Draco rolled his eyes. It really should not make him feel guilty. Nothing about the Gryffindor should make him feel anything  _at all_. Potter began to work in silence opposite him and the sudden quiet, though he’d craved it as soon as Potter got there, began to jar on his nerves.  
  
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s from Blaise.” Potter looked up, his eyes looking interested and hopeful. Draco was not affected. Not. “He’s a friend of mine in Slytherin.”  
  
Potter nodded to show he understood and suddenly the silence between them wasn’t so upsetting. “How come he’s not here?”  
  
Draco put down his quill. He wanted to ask why Potter was suddenly so curious about him, but then the answer to that came to him almost immediately  _“What would you say if I told you, you were right?”_  He resigned himself to his fate and said, “He found sunning it up in Italy to be more beneficial to his career as a rich playboy, than coming to school – during his only ‘substantial time away’ from it – to pretend he would become anything else.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yeah, ‘Oh’.” Draco waited for more questions, but it seemed Potter had fulfilled his quota for the time being. He went back to work, tried to concentrate, but it just wasn’t happening. “Potter, how long are you going to do this?” He rested his head in his hand, the warm palm laying against his cheek. He tried to look bored.  
  
Green eyes snapped to him once more. “Do what?”  
  
Draco gestured with his other hand, careful not to let the ink drip from the nib of his quill onto his work. “You’re following me around. It’s getting weird.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure someone hasn’t slipped you something? I heard Romilda Vane has a history of priors on that front.”  
  
Potter seemed to be thinking. “No.”  
  
“Then how do you explain your sudden...” He gestured with his hand back and forth between them again. When he couldn’t find the right word, he dropped it.  
  
Harry mimicked the action with ease. “...Attraction?” Harry said, trying to help.  
  
“Oh, good Merlin.” Draco shut his eyes. He couldn’t deal with this. Recalling Severus’ words, he said, “Listen. I need you to stay away from me. Do you understand?” He received no answer except for a smirk. “What. Why are you looking at me like that?”  
  
Harry widened his smile. “You’re cute when you’re angry. I never noticed before now.”  
  
“Oh, my god.” Draco laughed, mainly because he couldn’t think of any other reaction to his shock. “Potter. You’re freaking me out.”  
  
He received a shrug. “You think it’s not bothering me? I didn’t ask to feel this way.” Harry stared as Malfoy’s face decided on a proper expression. It was actually quite easy, pretending.  
  
“This is stupid, even for you.”  
  
It was quite obvious that Draco was struggling with the idea of Harry liking him. Harry watched him as he packed up his things and headed out of the library. When the door closed behind him, he let out a small grin as he stared at the desk. He then frowned. He wasn’t the type to usually enjoy things like this. And the amount of amusement he got from it was making him question himself. Two weeks into the programme and all he’d managed to figure out was that Malfoy was after Dumbledore for Voldemort’s sake and he was being forced into it by his parents being held captive, or something.  
  
Pretty much what he’d learned since his first night there.  
  
 _Hmm_. He had to step this up if he was going to get anything out of him. Malfoy had been letting him nearer as the days passed, had actually been allowing conversation for some reason, so the angle he’d taken was worth something, at least. He just needed to keep working it. But the blond was getting annoyed and Harry had to deal with that first.   
  
He looked to his side to see Terry Boot, his Transfiguration partner sneaking up behind a girl in a Ravenclaw uniform. He frowned until he saw the large white lily he was handing her. She squealed, something Harry never thought Ravenclaws could do, and then hugged him after Madam Pince gave them the evil eye. “It’s my favourite kind, where did you get it?” she whispered to him instead.  
  
Terry was behaving rather shy for the confident boy Harry knew him to be. “They aren’t in season, so I made it.” He shrugged. “It’s a simple spell, got it from a Herbology book.”  
  
“Aww, you’re so sweet,” she said and then gave him a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek before she – shockingly – began to gather up her stuff and leave the library with him.  
  
 _Well_ , Harry thought to himself.  _I could always try that._  He packed away his things and made for the Hufflepuff Common Room, one person on his mind. He went up an extra floor and knocked on the door, poking his head in with a smile when he received a, “Come in.”  
  
“Harry!” Neville greeted him with a smile.

Snape looked up as the door to his classroom opened. He narrowed his eyes as Remus Lupin walked in and gave him a friendly wave. “I came for my potion.” Remus closed the door behind him and stood in front of the door. He put his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

Severus cocked an eyebrow and stared at him, making him feel even more uncomfortable. “I know. I have a calendar.”   
  
Remus nodded. “Of course. So it’s ready?”  
  
Severus narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re early.”  
  
Remus nodded and busied himself with looking around the classroom. He knew he was on time, because he’d been given the itinerary by Snape and had marked the times to collect on his calendar to ensure he wouldn’t be late. He found himself with a lot of time on his lands now that he’d got over the first couple of weeks of the programme. There had been such a flurry of activity leading up to the first day and he’d planned as much as he could, but now that he’d got into the swing of things, there wasn’t much else to do besides mark work. He didn’t say anything about Snape’s tardiness, though. He valued his life far too much. He made a round of the room and absently came around the work surface Snape was using. He watched in silence as Severus worked, fascinated by the efficiency. “You know, Severus, some conversation is good for the soul.”  
  
Severus didn’t even miss a beat, as if he’d been waiting for Remus to speak the entire time he’d been in the room. “You will do well to not concern yourself with my soul, werewolf.” He strained a phial of something red into the cauldron and stirred it three times. The potion hissed and turned blue.  
  
“Okay. How are your classes, then?” Remus smiled and sat on a stool.  
  
Realising he would not stop talking or asking questions, even if he didn’t answer them, Severus decided he may as well answer truthfully. “It is... different being in a class with students who actually know what they are doing. There is less for me to do. I find myself marking papers and potions that are all perfectly made.” He frowned, concerned at something he had dreamed of for most of his professional career.  
  
“Boring, isn’t it?” He looked up to see Lupin smiling at him knowingly, like Severus had just discovered something everyone else already had and was welcoming him in on the joke.  
  
For some reason, he found himself giving traces of a smile. He turned away to the cauldron. “Very.”  
  
“Vector has been saying she’s run out of Arithmancy questions and the one’s she does have are apparently far too easy. She’s complaining we didn’t give her enough time. Don’t even get me started on Babbling.” Severus rolled his eyes at the rambling Lupin was doing to fill the silence. “She’s ranting on about how soon she’ll run out of runes to teach.” Remus rolled his eyes. “The only one making the most of it is Pomona. Nothing’s in season you see, she’s making all her students create and sustain plants from another season. Genius if you ask me.”  
  
Snape wisely kept his mouth shut throughout the tirade and didn’t take the bait. But his own view point couldn’t be silenced for long. “Why doesn’t Babbling make them come up with a few of their own Runes? It would certainly make for a good exercise on how runes are created. It’s what I am doing.”  
  
Remus was watching him with a warm gaze. “I’ll pass that on.” Snape rolled his eyes and ladled a spoonful of the Wolfsbane into a small glass. He handed it to Remus.  
  
“Drink.”  
  
Remus saluted him with the glass and downed it. “Thank you,” he said, rather strained due to the severity of the flavour. He winced as it went down. Once it was gone, he coughed. “Damn. You’d think I’d be used to it.”  
  
“Now leave.”  
  
Remus watched him in silence for a few seconds before a small smile broke through the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you later, Severus.” He walked around the Potions Master and headed to the door.  
  
“Not too soon, I hope,” he heard and turned to see Severus’ head half turned towards him to watch him as he left. A faint, but horrid memory surfaced in his mind of a young boy in a long tunnel running away from him. Terror suffused every pore. He could still smell it, the pure fear that bounced off the walls it was so tangible.   
  
“No, not too soon.” He gave a short nod and left.

Two weeks. Growing a white Narcissus flower took two weeks. And during that time Draco did nothing except go to his classes and the library. Harry had even started doing his own work, because he’d begun to fall behind. Neville was eyeing him strangely, though. He’d told his friend he was fascinated by what Neville did, but obviously his methods of manipulation left something to be desired, because Neville had taken one look at him and grinned.

.

“Three people have asked me to grow out of season flowers for people they’re sweet on just this week, Harry. Try again.”  
  
Damn it. Apparently Terry hadn’t kept his methods of seduction under wraps.  
  
“It’s not that I don’t mind doing it, especially since growing and sustaining plants that are out of season is a part of my project work. I just like to know why I’m doing it.” He waited. “So, why?”  
  
Harry was stumped. What the hell could he say? He’d come in thinking this was going to be easy: ask Neville for a favour to pay back at some other time, and then get the flowers to sway Malfoy over a little more. He’d then been presented with a Herbology text book and been told to look through it, like it was some sort of catalogue at a flower shop. Harry had no idea what he was doing until he’d glossed over the pretty white blooms of a Narcissus plant, taken a look at the name and thought, ‘ _Perfect_ ’. He knew Malfoy would be missing his mum, worrying about her and maybe these would be a little bit of comfort.  
  
Comfort.  
  
“Harry?” Neville asked, seeing the troubled expression on the brunet’s face. “You okay?” Harry’s gaze snapped up from the textbook page in front of him. He stared. Neville took pity on him and simply smiled, telling him it would take two weeks to grow Narcissus and sent him on his way.  
  
Harry, however, was far from on his way. Long after he’d left the room and retreated to his bed a floor below for the rest of the day, his mind was still stuck on the page of blooms. Comfort.  _Comfort?_  Since when had he been worried about Malfoy’s comfort? He shook his head and turned over. He didn’t have anything due the next day, except for some spells in Defence that he already knew, so he let himself relax.  
  
He wasn’t aware he’d fallen asleep, until movement just outside his curtains woke him up. Someone was digging through their drawers and, since Harry was against a wall, he only had one neighbour. Very slowly, he pulled at the edge of his joined curtains and let a small amount of light in. He was blinded for a second, but blinked it away. Picking up his glasses, he slid them on and watched as Malfoy sat down on his bed and wrote on a piece of parchment. Every so often he would stop and stare at a picture frame on his bedside table, one Harry knew held a picture of his parents. Biting his lip, Harry let the curtain fall closed and turned over. Something in his chest felt tight and he pulled off his jumper, loosened his tie and undid the first couple of buttons of his shirt. He needed to take a shower, but he didn’t want to go out there. Malfoy was having a private moment, most likely writing to his parents, and he didn’t want to intrude or make that open, longing look on his face disappear, replaced by the often-seen wary countenance the blond had taken to wearing around him.  
  
 _What would he be writing about?_  Harry wondered.  _Maybe how much he loves them and wants them here with him. He might even talk of regretting wanting to be a part of Voldemort’s fold in the first place._  Harry hadn’t missed the mark on the blond’s forearm just now. It was usually religiously covered during the day. He also didn’t miss how Malfoy stared at it like he abhorred it. It was a redeeming quality, Harry had to admit.  
  
 _Would he confide in them what his task is? Plead for help? For clemency?_  Harry shook his head. He might, but Harry doubted it. The blond was scared, it was obvious, but he had pride, Harry knew. He had to stop him from doing something terrible. Harry wasn’t trying hard enough. Malfoy was talking to him, sure, if insults on his character, intellect, dress, behaviour... No, he wasn’t doing enough. He had to get the blond to like him back.   
  
A very sudden beat of silence engulfed him and Harry’s eyes widened in the dark confines of his bed.  
  
 _Back?_  his mind echoed in question.  _What the-_  
  
Harry swiftly cut off that thought before it gained foundation and buried his head under his pillow. He hit his head on the headboard and groaned in pain, hearing the sudden stillness of his neighbour. The mortification served to banish all thoughts and Harry, suddenly tired of the effort the day had brought him, went to sleep.   
  
.  
  
Now, two weeks later, the thoughts had yet to cease and he was more confused than ever. Malfoy still stared at him blankly whenever he tried to strike up conversation and the situation was so familiar by now, even Hermione had stopped questioning him, preferring to follow saner pursuits, like her project work. That afternoon, when Neville told him his ‘order’ was ready, he was in the library with Draco, going over his final Transfiguration essay. He wanted it done before the evening meal. Returning students were coming back today, new first years returning on Monday.  
  
Draco stared at him curiously, his expression changing when Neville looked to him and simply nodded with a simple, “Afternoon, Malfoy,” and walked away.  
  
Draco watched Gryffindor’s botanist retreat with a look of stunned surprise. “Unbelievable.” Harry raised his head from his roll of parchment when he started to talk. “Getting stalked by the nation’s Golden Boy has made me approachable.” He turned to Harry. “I despise you.”  
  
Harry grinned at him, feeling a distinct turn in his stomach at the look on Draco’s face. It wasn’t hatred there. It wasn’t ‘like’ either, but he was getting there. He hoped.   
  
“What did you order then?” came the far too casual statement to be believed.  
  
Harry’s eyebrows rose. “Didn’t know you cared, Malfoy.”  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes at him. “It’s only fair, Potter. You’ve practically asked me about everything I’ve as much as _looked_  at since this truce of yours began. You’ve barely left me alone. Believe me, your nosiness is only surpassed by your tenacity, neither of which I care for.”  
  
Harry simply stared at him. “Well... see if I tell you, now.” He went back to his homework, grinning at the huffing exhale from across the table.

“What on Earth...” Draco stared at the full bouquet of full blossom Narcissus flowers, the stems thick and hardy and the bright white petals looking healthy and bright. Harry was surprised when Neville had brought them to him, and a little suspicious, since some of the bulbs had green petals with streaks of white1. At his questioning look, Neville had simply beamed at him.

 _“Extra credit if I could change their colour. Green seemed like a challenge,” he said with a wink._  
  
Harry had never seen a knowing look on Neville’s face before, so he couldn’t tell if that’s what he was seeing. He let it slide.  
  
“Those look pretty,” Harry said simply as he put finishing touches to a shopping list for Hogsmeade tomorrow. Ron was due any minute and he was going to kidnap him before the redhead had a chance to even think about Hermione. All his things were packed to be taken up to Gryffindor Tower as soon as he went down to the feast and his finished Transfiguration essay lay beside him. He was going to drop that in with McGonagall on his way down. Draco had already completed his, he knew, so the blond wouldn’t have anything to do tonight. The programme was over now and his final project presentation was the day before. All they had to hand in now were the write-ups and Harry was quite proud that he’d survived it all. Great thing about summer programmes were the lack of exams, Harry thought.  
  
“What – how?” Draco pointed at the flowers, but he was looking directly at Harry. The distinct lack of words was very appealing to Harry, but he tampered down the massive grin that wanted to explode across his face. Harry recognised a knowing look on Draco, had had more practice in identifying it. He raised his eyebrows.  
  
“You can’t possibly think I grew those? I’m bullocks at Herbology.” He went back to his list.  
  
There was a pause. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Draco reaching out to touch the unusual blooms. “You probably could if you took advantage of who you know.” He raised his head to look at the blond, surprised at the quote from three weeks ago. Another flip-twist in his gut. Down deep. Where it  _mattered_. “This is what you ordered, isn’t it? These kinds of things take forever to cultivate. How did you manage it?” he asked in astonishment. He brushed his hair back off his face, the short pieces of his fringe falling back into his eyes.  
  
Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I didn’t.”  
  
“How did  _Longbottom_  manage it, then?” Draco stressed. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at them when Harry gave him no answer. “Why did you do this?” His fingers traced the small inside petals. “They aren’t even in season.” His voice sounded like his mind was far away. “My – my father used to give these to my mother every week. They’d grace the entrance hall every Friday without fail.”  
  
Harry felt another twinge of surprise. It was Friday today. Talk about lucky.  
  
“You miss them,” he said instead. Draco’s grey eyes pinned him to his bed and he swallowed around the stunned feeling. “I’ve seen you looking at their picture.” He shrugged and ducked his head down to look at his list again. Maybe some  _Ice Mice_  too. He scribbled it in. “Thought you’d like it.”  
  
When he looked up again, Draco was biting on his lip. “Why?” he said helplessly.  
  
Harry looked at him obviously. “Because I like you.” He’d used the line to get Draco to shut up before. It was easy, really. Draco obviously had no idea how to approach the idea of Harry liking him, and Harry exploited that to the extreme, especially when he wanted Draco to stop talking.  
  
It was the ever-present twist in his stomach that did it. It was different this time, more pronounced. Harry paused, his gaze dropping to his bed cover, the incessant yellow colour, for once, failing to get on his nerves. The silence stretched for a while as he stared at the random string of sweets on his list and Draco stared at the white and green blooms on his nightstand. It was the drop of weight and the sudden airy feeling of released pressure on his chest and shoulders. It was what he’d been ignoring all month long since he’d first, actively, consciously thought about it weeks ago.  _The truth_. Harry dumped his stuff on the bed and stood up. When Draco looked up at him in surprise, his eyes wide and open and _honestly grateful_ , Harry stepped back with a gasp, his eyes moving to the side to stare at the wall in shock. “Oh... fuck me, I  _like_  you.  _Fuck_!”  
  
Draco was staring at him, bewildered now, because Harry suddenly seemed confused by words he’d restated many times before. “Er...” he said unsure of what else to say.  
  
Harry ran his hands through his hair and grabbed hold somewhere in the middle. “Oh my god. Oh my  _god_ , I actually like you.” He looked up and then looked away again spinning around and walking towards the door. It was nearly six that meant students were filing in. Ron must be in by now.  _Ron. I need to speak to Ron._  
  
Harry quickly climbed the steps leading to the entrance hall from the Hufflepuff Common Room. As he entered the open area, he looked around. He spotted Ron on the marble steps leading up the Hall and saw him talking to someone he couldn’t see beyond the balusters. He was smiling, though. Carefree and red-faced. He rounded the stairs and took them slowly until he saw them part ways and then rushed to grab his arm.  
  
An alarmed look was soon replaced by a welcome smile. “Whoa, hey! Harry! Mate!” He suddenly frowned at the look on Harry’s face. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?” A worried expression filtered across. “Is it-”  
  
“I need to talk to you.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “ _Please_.”  
  
“Ron!” They both turned to see Hermione waving and coming towards them. Ron waved back and then turned to Harry.  
  
Ron was wary and worried, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah – yeah, okay. Where? Dorms?” He gave Hermione a small hug when she reached them, making both Harry and Hermione watch him funny. Usually, Ron would turn beet red whenever Hermione was near him.  
  
Harry shook his head. “No. Someone could hear.” He ignored the looks he got and searched through his mind, until he remembered. “I know where.”

“You and Malfoy?” Hermione said, sitting back and chewing on an apple.

Harry nodded and looked out at the view of Hogwarts grounds. “Yeah.” He hadn’t needed to say it. The moon was out, full and bright enough that Ron could see him nodding. He spared a thought for Remus, likely running around the Forest or maybe in the Shrieking Shack. He hadn’t thought to ask and felt horrible for it.  
  
“When did this happen?” Ron asked him frowning.  
  
Harry shook his head. “It hasn’t.”  
  
Ron frowned. “I’m confused.” He rolled up his sleeves and leaned back on his robe that he’d spread out when they’d come up to the roof.  
  
Harry laughed. “Join the club.”  
  
Ron carefully turned so that he could face Harry without falling off the side of the castle. Below, the courtyard shone stony grey in the moonlight. He wasn’t up for painting it red. “Yeah... you’re going to have to explain this to me.” Hermione nodded along. “Did you know about this?”  
  
Hermione shook her head. “I know they’ve been spending time together. I would have thought if anything happened, he’d tell me.”  
  
Harry looked at her earnestly. “I would have. Nothing is happening, though.”  
  
“So tell us now,” Ron said plainly. Harry did. He told him about seeing Draco again for the summer programme, how he’d reported for his Occlumency lessons with Snape only to overhear the conversation behind the closed door. He told him about seeing Snape’s memories when he’d bested the snide bastard during his lesson and how he’d subsequently started watching Draco more, seeing how hopeless he looked.  
  
His best friends were silent for a while. Harry watched Ron carefully as he stared out at the scenery. It was well after curfew now, the sheer silence of the castle told him that. Hermione looked pensive, and he could tell Ron was still working out everything he said in his mind. He was glad Ron wasn’t overreacting. He didn’t think he could deal with that and the problems he was having now at the same time.   
  
Finally, Ron spoke. “So what is his task?” the redhead asked. Hermione put down her apple core and rubbed her hands together to get rid of the excess juice on them. She leaned back on them to listen too.  
  
Harry turned to Ron, he was very calm. It was curious. He was glad for it, but the silence was eerie. “Ron, are you okay?” he asked his best friend.  
  
Ron nodded. “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
Harry’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “How about, because I just told you I think I’m gay and have the hots for Draco Malfoy?” He was glad for the ready acceptance, but the mere fact that he was so calm about it was making Harry worried.  
  
Ron laughed, despite himself. “And what am I supposed to do about that? Mate, you lost your godfather a couple months ago and my brother has pretty much deserted his family. This is the most alive I’ve seen you since June. This is also the first time we’ve actually had a proper conversation since  _May_  without you yelling or stomping away.” Ron was shaking his head and his hands were fidgeting in his lap.  
  
“You’re lying,” Hermione said, her eyes narrowed. She shared a glance with Harry, who nodded to let her know he’d seen it too.  
  
Deflection. Harry narrowed his eyes in kind. “Ron, I appreciate that, but what’s going on?” Ron turned to him in surprise. “You’re telling the truth about us talking, I can tell, but you’re hiding something. You want to talk, let’s talk, but it goes both ways.” Ron was chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes flicking from his hands to Hermione, and back again. Slowly, he ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back off his face. He’d obviously not listened to his mother and cut it. He looked a lot more like Bill this way. “You mentioned Percy, has something happened with your family? Is everyone alright?” Harry was beginning to get worried for a whole other reason now. The Weasleys were like another family to him, he’d hate for anything to happen to any of them.  
  
Ron was quick to quell his anxiety and shook his head. Hermione put a hand on his arm in comfort and looked at it, and then up at her. His forehead creased in a slight frown, like he was working out how to tell them both something without them getting mad. Harry felt even guiltier than before. He’d been terrible near the end of fifth year and going into summer. Ron and Hermione had tiptoed around him for weeks, while taking out their frustration on each other. It was likely the reason Hermione had stayed away from him during the programme. She’d been able to use work as a way of keeping away, but Harry would have to corner her soon. When Ron had announced a family trip, Harry could almost see the relief in Ron’s eyes to get away from them both, coupled with guilt that Harry would have to go back to his horrible family. The summer programme had been a godsend as far they were all concerned.  
  
“We went away for a holiday to Rome, you remember?” Ron began in a low voice. Harry and Hermione nodded. It was hard to forget, what with the epic amount of packing the family had been doing throughout July. “When I was there,” Ron said, his voice trailing into a whisper. His gaze snapped to Hermione for a moment before fixating on a spot in the distance. “I met someone.”  
  
Harry sucked in a breath, his gaze moving to Hermione too. It was odd, what with how they always sniped at each other, but Harry had always had it in his mind that Ron and Hermione were just  _it_  for each other. End of story. Ron never really looked at anyone else the way he did Hermione. Harry just took it at face value and figured time would do its job and get them together eventually, frustrating as they both were in the meantime. “In Rome?” Ron nodded.   
  
Hermione was biting into her bottom lip and Harry didn’t know what to say. Neither of them had told the other about their feelings. Hermione rubbed a hand up and down Ron's back. Harry suddenly wished he was nowhere near either of them, like he was intruding on a private moment. “What’s her name?” Hermione said quietly, surprising them all.  
  
Even in the moonlight, Harry could see Ron blush as he looked up at Hermione and then away guiltily. He was picking at his jeans, his blunt nails scratching at the material. He leaned forward, his hair obscuring his face, and swallowed. His voice was throaty when he finally spoke. “Blaise.”  
  
Hermione gasped and Harry nodded looking out into the distance. He then let out a laugh. “Draco’s got a friend called Blaise, too.”  
  
There was silence before Ron said, “I know.”  
  
Harry suddenly paused, his mind working over a set of information he hadn’t put together before. “You know?”  
  
 _Who’s the letter from? – Blaise. He’s a friend of mine in Slytherin. – How come he’s not here? – He found sunning it up in Italy to be more beneficial to his career as a rich playboy than coming to school, during his only substantial time away from it, to pretend he would be anything else. - Oh._  
  
In his mind’s eye, he saw Ron standing on the steps to the Great Hall grinning and talking to someone, his face red with a blush as everyone passed them by. He remembered watching the boy walk away and Ron’s head turning to see him go before Harry grabbed his hand and desperately let out that he needed to talk.  
  
Ron nodded. “He told me.”  
  
Harry rolled his lips into his mouth and bit down. He chanced a glance at Hermione. She didn’t look exactly pleased, but what she lacked there she made up for in amusement. Ron turned to look at them in the ensuing silence. His red flush went deeper. “Don’t look at me like that, or I’ll push you off this wall,” he warned both of them.  
  
“My two male best friends are gay and I’m not allowed amusement?” Hermione said.  
  
Harry shook his head, his smile suddenly overtaking his face. “You’re with Blaise Zabini and you don’t want me to look at you funny?” He let out some delighted laughter.  
  
“I’m not,” Ron lowered his voice, as if someone could hear him, “ _with_  him yet-”  
  
“ _Yet_?” Harry and Hermione interrupted, highly amused. Hermione hid her mouth behind her hands while Harry’s opened wide at the scandal.  
  
“Harry, shut up!” Ron covered his face with his hands. “This isn’t what we came up here to talk about,” he said lowering his hands and ignoring Harry’s snorts of laughter. “I hate you.”  
  
Harry lay back and stared up at the sky as he laughed, feeling infinitely better than he did ten minutes ago. “No, you don’t, you love me.” He grinned maniacally. “Maybe not as much as you love-”  
  
Eyes still shut, Ron put up a finger to forestall Harry’s next words and shook his head slowly, solemnly. “Finish that sentence and I will end you.” He opened his eyes and stared at his best friend. “Best friend or no.” Ron took a deep breath. “You wanted to talk about you and Malfoy.”  
  
“But you and Zabini are more entertaining for me.” He sighed at the narrow-eyed look Ron sent him. “Fine. What I want is advice.” He let Hermione help him back up and rest her head against him. It was getting late, they should head in soon.  
  
Ron sat and thought for a second, his hands warming between his thighs. “What you need is to look at this from all angles.” Harry gave him a look that said, ‘What do you mean?’ Ron explained. “You want something to happen with Malfoy, yeah?” Harry nodded. “Then what? What happens after? Hypothetically, say you get him.” Harry was grinning again wondering absently if this was how Ron tackled ‘feelings’ for Zabini. “He agrees to a  _thing_  with you – stop looking at me like that Harry!” Despite the seriousness of the situation, Ron was blushing again and an embarrassed smile threatened on his lips. “I wish I‘d never told you now.”  
  
Harry clung to his sleeve as Ron tucked in his feet to stand up. He dragged him back down. “Oh no, don’t wish like that. I’m actually enjoying myself for the first time in months.” He put his hand on Ron’s shoulder. “I am listening, I promise. Just ignore me.”  
  
Ron gave him a hairy eyeball. “I wish it was that simple, mate.”  
  
Hermione gave Harry a light punch on his arm and gave him a serious face. Harry turned to pleading. “No! It can be – look, I’m serious now, go on.” Harry fixed himself with a straight back and a stern expression. “He agrees to a thing with me, hypothetically.” He gestured for Ron to go on.  
  
Ron eyed him dubiously before continuing. “What do you do with him after?” He narrowed his eyes at the smile cracking on Harry’s lips. “With You-Know-Who? His parents? These are things you’re gonna have to deal with.”  
  
It wasn’t hard to get the smile off his face then. Harry sighed and lay back again. He hadn’t really thought of all that. “Shit.” He could hear the conversation in Snape’s memories about Draco’s parents. He knew that the whole family would take an out if they got one. But he also knew that Draco had to get his penchant for cowardly antics from someone. Draco wanted out, but was too afraid to leave because of what could happen if he did. He didn’t want to make the decision and he was pretty sure Draco’s parents were the same. Suddenly it was very, very clear.   
  
Hermione, apparently, was on the same wavelength as him. “You need to get to his parents.” Her suggestion was echoed by Harry’s, “Yes, exactly!”  
  
Ron, not in tune with Harry’s inner monologue or Hermione’s thought pattern, frowned. “Er, what?”  
  
Harry turned to make their two sides into more of a circle. “In Snape’s memories, he was talking to Dumbledore and Remus. They were talking about the fact that Draco’s parents wanted out and if they were to get an offer, they would probably take it.”  
  
Ron pushed his hair back off his face again, the wind blowing it around. “So? Haven’t they taken it yet?”   
  
Harry shrugged. “I don’t know what going on. I haven’t heard anything from Draco about his parents suddenly switching sides.”  
  
“Would he tell you?” At a confused glance from Harry, Hermione elaborated. “If his parents suddenly switched sides, would he tell you?”  
  
Harry thought about it. “Yeah, I think he would. He wouldn’t miss a chance to tell me that. It’s probably the only thing that would get him talking to me.”  
  
“Well, there you go then.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Ron gestured with his hand. “The key to Malfoy’s pants is his parents. You get them, you get him. Hypothetically.”   
  
“Must you put it like that?” Hermione said rolling her eyes. Harry nodded staring off into the distance. Suddenly, he smiled again and gave Ron a sly look.  
  
Ron groaned. “Can this conversation be over now?”  
  
Harry grinned. “What you said sounds so sordid, but I can see the logic behind it.” Ron leaned on the short rampart next to him carefully. Harry watched him as he stared off into the distance. Hermione was watching him, too. “So, apart from your romantic escapades, how was your holiday?”

Dumbledore didn’t usually admit to being stunned. This time, however, he was hard pressed to hide his surprise. Harry stood determined on the other side of his desk, though his hands fidgeted as he picked at his nails absently. “You wish for me to organise a team to kidnap Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?” he asked slowly, having to repeat it because he was sure - _positive_  that he’d heard wrong. Harry had been told about Lucius’ escape weeks ago, though the story was being kept purposely from the papers to prevent a public outcry. Harry couldn’t have known that they already had a plan in motion to retrieve the two Malfoy’s from their residence in two days. His gaze flit across to Severus, to see if he had mentioned it or let the information ‘leak’ at any time. Severus was standing near to the door with his arms crossed, an eyebrow cocked and a small, knowing smile on his lips, but he shook his head for the negative. The Potions Master had been in the middle of a session with Harry when he’d asked to speak to Dumbledore, stating it as an emergency. Using his significant Legilimency skill, Snape had caught his thoughts by simply skimming the surface and agreed as reluctantly as he could.

Harry, however, couldn’t see him. “Yes.”  
  
Focusing on the youth in front of him, Dumbledore put down his quill and gave Harry his undivided attention. “Why?”  
  
“You know what Draco has been tasked to do, and you know his parents are being used as a bargaining chip. They’re in danger.” Harry just knew Snape had to be glaring at the back of his head, but this was something that he had to talk about. There was no way that Dumbledore could be aware of the danger Draco Malfoy was to him and not take out the core of the problem. When Dumbledore looked up at Snape, however, the former Slytherin was far from glaring. The only proof that Harry’s words affected him at all was the eye roll Dumbledore could see clear as day.  
  
“I believe the more apt term is they are courting danger.” Harry turned his head to see Snape pushing off from the wall to walk up to the desk. “Lucius Malfoy is a confirmed Death Eater. You saw him yourself, he was there when Black was killed.” Snape glared a little, for propriety’s sake. He was actually surprised it had taken the prat this long to speak of what he’d seen in his memories four weeks ago.  
  
Harry gritted his teeth. He wasn’t at all eager to recount the events in the Ministry anytime soon. “He didn’t kill him, though.”  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat, his hands lacing together on his desk. They were getting off topic. According to Severus, Harry had told Draco Malfoy that he ‘liked’ him. If this was the base of Harry’s decision, then he needed to get it as an explanation. He wasn’t supposed to know anything. Therefore the sudden request would have sounded odd to anyone unaware of the situation. “That is not all. I can tell.” Dumbledore sighed. “Harry, what is this really about? A few months ago you practically tore my office apart-”  
  
“A few months ago I was a different person,” Harry interrupted. “I was grieving - I was... I was lost.”  
  
Taken aback by Harry’s statement, Albus searched Harry’s face for some clue, when all he found was open honesty, he turned to Severus for an explanation. Severus seemed as stunned as he. “And you aren’t anymore?” he asked cautiously.  
  
Harry heaved a heavy sigh. When he let it out, his face held the faint traces of a smile. He shook his head. “No.”  
  
Severus made to stand alongside Dumbledore, all the better to see Potter’s face when he spoke. Something unexpected had happened. Their plan was to get Harry Potter to care about something - anything, to return to him some level of responsibility for a world he was fast turning away from. They’d believed him empty of love and, after his episode in the Headmaster’s office months ago, after Sirius Black died, he hadn’t been far from the brink. Turned out, he had a vast amount of love left and they’d unknowingly unleashed it on Draco Malfoy, even if neither of them knew the truth. “What has changed?” Albus asked him carefully.  
  
Even if Harry wanted to answer, he couldn’t. How could he tell him that he was beginning to have... feelings for a boy he’d so far hated for most of his schooling career, and gone from beating each other up at the end of last term to wanting to kidnap his parents in order to make him happy? It made no sense and just saying it in his head made him sound crazy.  
  
“I-”  
  
“Headmaster, if I may,” Severus said, seizing an opportunity. “Recent talks I’ve had with Draco have led me to believe that Potter here is carrying a torch for my ward.” Harry’s eyes opened wide before dropping his gaze to the floor.  
  
Dumbledore let his eyebrows rise in surprise and turned to Harry, feigning shock without overdoing it. “Harry? Is this true?” When all Harry did was blush bright red, Dumbledore smiled. He’d wondered how they would explain their sudden need to acquire the Malfoys to the Order without mentioning Severus’ creation. This was the perfect excuse. “Well, this changes things.” He leaned forward. “You will have to give me some time. These things must be handled delicately.” Harry’s eyes rose from the ground where he’d cemented them in his embarrassment. There was a smile blooming on his face. “Of course, you may need to keep this operation quiet until the targets are in hand.” Harry nodded quickly. “I shall send word to you when we have them.”

When Harry saw it in the paper three days later, he smiled. To himself of course.

 

MALFOY FAMILY KIDNAPPED. EVIDENCE OF FOUL PLAY

  
A couple tables down, enjoying his breakfast, Draco didn’t see anything to smile about. He was reading through the story avidly, his shock evident. Harry lowered his head to read on and was a little shocked himself.

 

> DMLE officials confirm that the Dark Mark floats over Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, residence of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy is a convicted Death Eater who has been arrested twice for Death Eater activity. Reports suggest Mr and Mrs Malfoy were taken by You Know Who, who, earlier in the year, was stated to be ‘non-existent’, according to Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, when the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, confirmed his presence at the Ministry of Magic in May this year.
> 
> Evidence at the scene of the crime reports mass damage to the interior of the Manor, lending to the theory that the Malfoys did not go easily, or willingly. But why, do you ask? Lucius Malfoy has indeed been arrested twice for suspicion of working under the order of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, confirmed by his Dark Mark on his left arm. However, he was freed after the first war in the 1980s, claiming he was forced with an Unforgivable and was again released earlier this month due to co-operation with the DMLE in capturing other Death Eaters still at large.

Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise and then his gaze moved to the Headmaster. The man was watching him with his twinkling gaze. As Harry stared, Dumbledore smiled and winked at him. Harry’s jaw dropped.  _Lies_. He smiled to himself.  _But necessary lies_.

 

> This reporter wonders if Lucius Malfoy gave a little too much information, for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to be comfortable with. Have we misjudged one of our own? If so, how many other allies do we have on the dark side?

Harry laughed. He couldn’t believe it. A perfectly spun story and there didn’t even have to be proof. Who was going to refute it? Other Death Eaters? Voldemort? Harry snorted. He couldn’t have done it better himself.  
  
“Harry, come on, we’ll be late for class.” Harry looked up to see Hermione and Ron staring at him. Hermione looked serious, but Ron was grinning, most likely because he knew Harry had to be behind the crap in the paper. Ron shook his head at his best friend and picked up Harry’s bag. Harry nodded and joined them on their way to the Defence corridor.

“Potter. Really?” Blaise said in curious disbelief and cocked his head and stared up at the ceiling. “No... no, I don’t see it.”

Draco’s head was swimming with information that he didn’t understand. He was trying to work through it all, but all he could think of was Potter. “I’m not lying.”  
  
Blaise turned his head from where he lay upside down, his legs stretched up the wall at the head of the frame. “He actually said that he liked you?” It was kind of hard to believe, since the last time he’d seen Potter he’d been in the middle of pounding Draco’s face in, in a corridor.   
  
Draco nodded. He was sat facing Blaise, cross-legged, on his own bed. He’d hoped for some advice on what to do, but so far all he’d got were more questions.  
  
“Does he know you’re...” Blaise hinted and curved his neck to look across at him. His hand gestured to Draco’s forearm.  
  
Draco didn’t need to look at his arm anymore. “I’m not sure. He must be suspicious. I already thought of that, though. He never asks me questions about it, and when he’s staring at me, he doesn’t mistakenly stare at my arm or anything.” His hand covered the material of his school jumper self-consciously. “Besides, he’s faced the Dark Lord more than once, I doubt his tattoo of membership is going to do much in ways of dissuasion.” And that did not sound like an excuse in Potter’s favour. Not.  
  
Blaise huffed out a breath through his nose and pillowed the back of his head on one of his arms. “It might if he knew you were officially working for him. Just tell him you can’t fraternise when you’re on the job. It’s not professional.”  
  
Draco was silent. Then he shook his head. “That’s not funny, Blaise.”  
  
Blaise gave an empty sad laugh. “It wasn’t meant to be.” He turned his head again. “It was meant to be the truth. It may just set you free, so to speak.” Draco shook his head, staring off into space. Blaise narrowed his eyes at him and pulled in his legs to turn over and lie on his stomach. He regarded his best friend for a second. “Unless you don’t  _want_  to be free.” His gaze was searching, thorough.  
  
Draco’s gaze snapped to him. He scoffed. “Oh please. I’m not brain-damaged like you are.” It was nearly unbelievable when Draco got a letter from Blaise stating he’d ‘hooked up’ with Weasel while in Italy. Apparently, the sneak of weasels had flocked to Rome to celebrate the opening of their family joke shop. Draco had had all manner of things to say about that, not that Blaise wanted to hear anything about it. Potter’s sidekick had stared at Blaise through dinner at some posh restaurant and, thinking he was being antagonistic, Blaise had torn him a new one when he’d cornered him in the bathroom. Weasley was most upset and asked Blaise if they’d met before, because for some reason, Blaise knew  _him_ though he didn’t know how. Blaise had then told Weasley they’d been going to the same school for five years straight.  
  
Weasel had been most embarrassed to be checking out someone who was, one: sharing the same space with him now for half a decade and two: a Slytherin and best friend of one Draco Malfoy.  
  
It was a most entertaining letter, which only turned sour when Draco was then informed of get-togethers and rendezvous when everyone was asleep... urgh. Just thinking about it made him feel green with sickness.  
  
“Hey!” Blaise snapped, his finger rising in warning. “Don’t even. My Gryffindor can run circles around yours, yeah? Saviour or not.”  
  
Draco actually laughed. “I’m sure that’s exactly what they do all day, too.”  
  
Blaise rolled his eyes and once again relaxed on his back staring into the canopy of his bed. “I’m noticing you didn’t deny my accusation.”  
  
“Oh, Blaise, of course I’m not interested in Potter. Are you mad?” He threw himself back on his bed, bouncing a little when he landed. “I don’t even know why I asked you. You’re clearly biased.” Blaise sighed and straightened out his legs to fall off the side.  
  
“You asked me for three reasons. One,” he said putting up a finger. “I’m good looking and it always helps to have a good looking friend.” Draco snorted and Blaise put up a second finger, ignoring Draco when he stated that Blaise’s first statement made no sense. “Two: other than Pansy, I am the only other person you know who is an actual male who has sex with other males and can therefore understand where you're coming from.”   
  
Draco shook his head and closed his eyes as he threw an arm over his face. “I wish I’d never told you I was interested in men.”  
  
Blaise snorted. “Oh, Draco, you didn’t have to. It’s been obvious since you were fourteen and couldn’t keep your eyes off your gardener.”  
  
Raising his arm in alarm, Draco blinked at the dark canopy of his bed. “What?” His tone was high pitched, but he wasn’t anything but amused. Draco laughed quickly, shaking his head.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry. I couldn’t either. He was most informative in your garden shed.”  
  
Draco sighed, accustomed to Blaise’s nonchalant brazen ways. “And three?” he dared ask.   
  
“Oh, the most important. I am the only other Slytherin you know who’s dating a Gryffindor with a worse temper than your Gryffindor and managed to tame him anyway. Now, if that isn't qualification enough... you're on your own.”  
  
Draco manoeuvred himself around to lay sideways with his head on his pillow. “Forgive me if I’m a little hesitant, since I have yet to get any advice from you besides innuendo about the ‘Golden Boy’s golden balls’. You’re more trouble than you’re worth. Don’t know what Weasel is thinking,” he said with a smirk.  
  
Blaise looked affronted and turned his head to face him, he stuck his feet up straight to prop his heels on the wall above his headboard, but they couldn’t reach. He rested them on the headboard instead. “He’s thinking that he’s got himself a smoking-hot piece of rich man.”  
  
Draco was most amused. “Okay... then what are  _you_  thinking?” There was a pause. Draco frowned and angled his head to see Blaise’s face set in a pensive expression. “Blaise?”  
  
Blaise spoke as if he’d been speaking the whole time. “That he doesn’t care that he has a smoking-hot piece of rich man,” he said quietly. “And I kind of like it.” The atmosphere in the room became heavy and tense and Draco didn’t know how to shift it as easily as Blaise did. Blaise had a talent for it that Draco only wished he could have.  
  
True to form, Blaise shook his head, like he was washing his thoughts off and turned his attention to Draco. “But back to you. I think you should take advantage of this. The paper today, it spoke rather highly of your dad, like he was an undercover, secret-agent/spy, or something.”  
  
Draco bit into his bottom lip and sighed through his nose. He’d been thinking about this since breakfast. It was so distracting that he didn’t even bother going to the library during his free period, just came straight here and dragged Blaise with him not caring about him spouting about how he was going to meet with Weasley. He didn’t care, this was urgent. Weasel would have to get used to Draco commandeering Blaise’s attention at all hours of the day. He wouldn’t be stopping it anytime soon. Blaise had enabled him all his life, that was  _not_  going to change. Not. “I know. I never thought - I mean... Blaise, why didn’t he tell me? A spy? A fucking spy!” He threw his pillow over his head. “And now he’s gone and I don’t know where he is. The Dark Lord could have killed him for all I know. He’s been threatening to do it for ages, using them against me. Now he doesn’t need me anymore.”  
  
Blaise bit his own lip, wondering at something he knew would be running around Draco mind, whether he knew it or not. “You think he could have got you out of the mark?”  
  
Draco stopped dead. A sudden clear voice filled his head.  _You probably could if you took advantage of who you know_  
  
He remembered very clearly what had prompted that line and his eyes narrowed in speculation.  _Had Potter known? Was he trying to give me a clue?_  “I... I don’t know. I mean, I’m sure if he could have, he would’ve, yeah? I don’t want to think it could be anything else.” He sat up straight.   
  
Blaise’s eyebrow quirked. “What?”  
  
It felt so horrible to think it, let alone say it. “Now that he’s, most likely going to kill my dad, do you think I still have to carry out my task?” He tried not to let his eyes plead for a negative answer, but he knew he’d failed.  
  
Blaise shrugged, but Draco could tell he was thinking hard. “What about your mum?” Draco deflated, and then felt even worse that he had forgotten her. “Hey,” Blaise called softly as Draco brushed his hair back off his face with his hands. Draco’s spine curved forwards in misery. “It’ll be okay. Maybe if you allow Potter a little closer, he can help you. He’s opposed to the Dark Lord in the grandest of ways. If you ask, and he likes you the only way that Gryffindors can, he’d probably move a mountain just to please you.”  
  
He knew his friend was trying to lighten the conversation and he was glad of it. “Speaking from experience there Blaise?” he returned in kind.  
  
“You know I always do,” Blaise said with a sly grin.

Lucius’s eyes opened slowly in the dim light of the room. He frowned and gripped his head. It ached something fierce and began to throb as he turned onto his back. Staring up at the ceiling, he wondered what the hell he’d drank the night before to be feeling like this. Stretching out his arm, he came into contact with Narcissa, the warm skin of her back inviting enough for him to turn back and spoon behind her. She made a small noise and squirmed. He smiled into the nape of her neck smelling her shampoo, sweet and flowery in her hair. He inhaled again, becoming confused. There was a musty smell underneath it that he didn’t understand or recognise. He opened his eyes again, this time looking down at the sheets he slept on. Had the house elves forgotten how to change sheets? His brow furrowed as he then propped himself up on his elbow. His headache got worse, but the confusion helped to distract him from it. His eyes spanned the room.

This was not his bedroom.  
  
“Good evening, Lucius.” Lucius jumped, startled, and turned his upper body around to see Severus Snape sitting on a chair and placing down a book he’d obviously been reading. “I’m glad to see you’re well.”  
  
“Severus?” he said, his voice slurred. He touched his mouth, hearing the words and looked up at his colleague again. “I’ve been drugged,” he said, now recognising the effects of a strong sleeping potion for what they were.  
  
Severus nodded. “You were, but it was for your own protection. The Dark Lord won’t believe you ran, this way. Do not worry. We left significant signs of a struggle.”  
  
“Ran?” Lucius asked, looking around again. “Where are we?”  
  
“The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.” Lucius’ eyes widened. Already the possibilities were forming in his mind, how to curry favour- “I don’t think you want to go there, Lucius.” Severus was watching him as if he could read his mind. He slammed up his Occlumency shields. Severus smiled. “That’s not necessary. I’ve known you far too long and far too well to not know what will pass through your mind.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Severus cocked an eyebrow. “Why are you here, or why do I think your idea is a very bad one?” he asked. Lucius remained silent, effectively telling Severus any answer would suffice. “Draco. To both.”  
  
Blond eyebrows rose in surprise. “Draco is here?”  
  
“Oh, Merlin, no. He doesn’t even know you’re here, let alone where  _here_  is.” Severus placed his book down on the bedside table next to him and sat back. “No, he is simply the reason why you are here.” He waited for Lucius’ reaction.  
  
Slowly, Lucius angled himself to drag his body into a sitting position. The musty smell of the sheets and bed lingered and his nose crinkled at it. “I don’t understand.”  
  
Severus seemed to be preparing himself to deliver bad news. Lucius could tell from the way he took in a deep breath, to fortify himself. “Your son, for lack of a better word, is in love.” It was total lie, of course. He hadn’t spoken to Draco since their last session, but based on Draco’s reports, if anything, Draco was ready and willing to slit Potter’s throat in his sleep if he followed him around anymore.   
  
As bad news went, that wasn’t too bad. “With whom?”  
  
“Someone who cared enough to orchestrate your escape with no casualties.” Severus cocked an eyebrow. “On either side. Simply because it would make Draco happy.” At least that was the gist he got from Potter’s lengthy rant in the Headmaster’s office last week. It certainly wasn’t because Potter liked Draco’s parents.

Dinner was over and he was staring at Dumbledore again. Harry shook his head as he leaned against the wall talking to Terry Boot about their project for Defence. It was no use though, because as soon as the blond passed him, avoiding his gaze, as usual, Harry snapped.

“Terry, I’m sorry, but I’m not listening to you. Can we reschedule?”  
  
Terry seemed a bit taken aback by Harry’s words. “Er, I guess, yeah,” he said at a loss for what else to do or say.  
  
Harry gave him a manly slap on the arm and took off down the corridor Malfoy had turned down, calling his name. Thing is, as soon as he did that, the blond sped up, darting into the library for sanctuary. Harry rolled his eyes and followed him in.  
  
Draco wasn’t surprised to see Harry sit down across from him. He simply sighed and continued with his work. “What do you want, Potter?” His voice was low and monotone, as if he’d said the words so many times they held no meaning anymore. It was kind of accurate.  
  
“I’m just... I heard about your parents.”  
  
Draco looked up at him after he opened his textbook. He saw the worry there. Worry that could be easily mistaken for pity. He narrowed his eyes. “Potter, stop trying to relate to me. My parents are missing, not dead. Fuck off.”  
  
Harry huffed. “Fine. I just thought you’d want some cheering up.”  
  
Draco stared at him as if he was the strangest thing he’d ever seen. “Why would I come to you for that? How is it that I’ve suddenly become so interesting to you? Leave me the hell alone.” A pink flush of colour dusted his cheeks as he realised how Harry was staring at him. He looked away. “Just... What is it? Seriously. I have an essay to finish. Just tell me and go away.”  
  
Harry stared, watching his lips move. The blond looked tired. “Okay.” And suddenly all thoughts of telling Draco about his parents flew out of his mind. “You look tired, are you okay?” he asked worriedly.  
  
“That’s because I am tired, Potter.”  
  
“My name is Harry.” Draco glared at him. Harry sighed. “I need you to come with me somewhere.”  _Shit, where did that come from_? He winced. “Tomorrow,” he tacked on, cursing his mind’s spontaneous thoughts.  
  
Draco paused, every muscle freezing. “What? Why?”  
  
Harry shook his head, hoping to waylay Draco’s sudden unexplained fear, but he didn’t think he was getting anywhere. He tried something else. “I can’t tell you, it’s a surprise.” Draco cocked an eyebrow at him and waited. “I’m not going to tell you. Don’t you know the meaning of surprise?” he said obviously.  
  
“I don’t  _like_  surprises.”  
  
Harry nodded anyway. “Well, you’ll like this one.” Draco rolled his eyes in response. Once again, Harry changed tactics, because he was versatile that way. “If you do, I’ll never bother you again. Ever.”  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes and eyed him warily, uncertain to make a deal, even with such promising stakes. “Ever?” he said.   
  
Harry nodded. “Ever.”  
  
There was consternation in his expression, but hesitantly, Draco asked, “Where?”  
  
Harry’s smile reigned full bloom and Draco pinked again, looking away to his notes. “Well, you can meet me at the Great Hall after dinner tomorrow. I can take you from there.”  
  
Blond eyebrows rose. “And you won’t bother me again? You won’t follow me, or stare really hard all moony-eyed?”  
  
Harry frowned. “I don’t-” He sighed. It wouldn’t make a difference what he said anyway. “Fine.”  
  
Draco watched him in silence for a little longer. Finally he nodded. “After dinner?” When Harry confirmed his question with a nod, he shook his head in bemusement. “Yeah, fine, whatever you say. Is that it?” He gestured to the door, or possibly anywhere else beyond it that Harry could be instead of at Draco’s table.  
  
Harry stood up and smiled as he walked away. As soon as he left the library, he winced and turned towards the Headmaster’s office.

There were still candles lit in the dorm room as Harry entered it as silently as he could. They were dim, though, so Harry had to walk carefully to avoid stumbling over anything on the floor.  _So lucky_ , Harry thought to himself as he face-planted onto his bed. He’d spontaneously planned a trip to Grimmauld Place, where Draco’s parents were being held - er - accommodated. He’d only planned on telling Draco he knew where his parents were, but after seeing the worry and tiredness of his eyes as he stared at him across the oak table, he’d just known that nothing short of seeing them in person would make that look go away.

Just then, the door opened and Ron came into room. Harry frowned, looked at all the closed curtains in the room and checked his watch. It was after one. Harry grinned at him. “Sneaking in, Ron? What would your mother think?”  
  
Ron jumped about five feet in the air, holding his hand against his chest in fright. “Bloody hell, Harry,” he whispered fervently. “Warn a guy before you give him a heart attack. Merlin...” He rubbed at his chest and then walked over to his bed, pulling back the curtains on Harry’s side and sitting down. “Why are you still awake, anyway?” he said tiredly around a yawn.  
  
Harry laced his fingers over his stomach and crossed his ankles. “Waiting up for you, naturally.”  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and pulled off his t-shirt. “Of course.” He rubbed his face, looking guilty. “Hermione’s downstairs reading.” He looked up. “With Seamus,” he added with a small smile.  
  
Harry looked over at Seamus’ bed, the curtains pulled secure around them. When he’d passed through the Common Room before, he’d seen Hermione up. She’d looked startled when he’d suddenly come in, her face red in her surprise. He hadn’t thought anything of it then. Apparently no one was where they were supposed to be. “And where have you been?” Harry grinned and eyed the livid red mark on the side of Ron’s neck. “Or need I ask?”  
  
Ron scoffed and threw himself back, messing up his already messed up hair. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable talking about this with you, mate.”  
  
Harry’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. Ron was never careful with his words, but now the innuendo was blatant and he wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. “And that means something just happened that you’re not comfortable talking about, yes?” Ron groaned and put his hands over his face. From his vantage point, Harry could tell his face was bright red. “I’ll take that as confirmation.” He chuckled. “Well, maybe you’ll be less embarrassed if I tell you I’m not getting any at all?”  
  
Ron raised his hands, suspending them in mid-air and raised his head a little. He was frowning at him. “What? But Blaise said-” He cut himself off.  
  
“Blaise said what?” Harry asked.  
  
Ron shook his head. “Nothing.” He sat up. “Hey, I meant to ask you. I mean I suspected, but... was that you? In the paper this morning? Did you orchestrate that?”  
  
Harry, partly impressed by the vocabulary Ron was using (no doubt Zabini’s influence), and partly shocked that Ron thought he had that much sway with the media - especially after all the wonderful things they’d been saying about him so far, didn’t have to work hard at the surprised look plastered across his face. It was nice to know Ron thought so highly of him, though. “No. Was a great scheme, though. Must have been Dumbledore,” he said quietly. It had the work of the master written all over it, actually.  
  
Ron stood up to pull off his trousers and then slid into bed. Shortly after, Harry did the same thing. “Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow. You interested?”  
  
Ron sighed heavily. “Mate, you can’t ask me out anymore, I’m not single, remember?” he laughed. Harry laughed quietly with him. That was about the closest Ron would come to comfortable for a while.

“You’re going.”

Draco sat down on the edge of his bed, holding the denim trouser-thing Blaise had thrown at him from his ‘Muggle trunk’. Draco did not want to know why Blaise even had a ‘Muggle trunk’. It would be better for his sanity that way. He heaved a heavy sigh and lay back. “Why?”  
  
Blaise gave him a very put upon look. “Draco, you do realise you may actually get to have some version of sex this year? I know you said you don’t have time because of your task, but people are starting to talk.  _Pansy_  is starting to talk.”  
  
Draco winced. He’d been rather upset about things in his life last year and ‘spread himself’ a bit thin amongst his peers, that was true. He’d gained a bit of a reputation in doing so. He didn’t regret it at the time, it had felt too good, but he was beginning to regret it now. “Oh... damn it.”  
  
Blaise sat down at the edge of Draco’s bed and looked down at him. “Draco, tell me honestly. Would you?”  
  
Draco sat up to face him. Honestly, he didn’t know. Potter was relentless in his pursuit so far, and it was becoming equal parts endearing and frustrating as it grated on his nerves. “I don’t know, oh genius of all things Gryffindor. Would it be worth it?” he said instead.  
  
Blaise matched his smirk with a sly grin. “If Ron is anything to go by?  _Yes_.”  
  
For all he’d heard so far, Draco was still surprised. He’d thought Blaise was just rubbing it in before, but that statement seemed genuine. “Really? Weasley?”  
  
Blaise was shaking his head like he didn’t know where to start. “It’s hard to explain.” He bit his lip in thought and moved to lie on his own bed. He sat up suddenly, his hands going into ‘explanation mode’. He always did this when trying to describe something abstract to Draco. Draco wished he wouldn’t. All it usually succeeded in doing was distracting him. He focused on Blaise’s face. “From my intense study so far, Gryffindors have four zones on their Scale of Affection.” His hands were far apart. That was probably to symbolise the scale. Draco shook his head. He could actually hear the capitalisation in that phrase. He watched his friend in fond amusement, propping his head up on his right hand. “At the bottom is pure, unadulterated hatred. They won’t kill you, but they definitely wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. Here is where grudges are held the most and only pile on top of the hatred until, sometimes, they can’t even see what got them to hate you in the first place. You know this place, Weasley had you in it for a long time. Once, maybe even Potter had you down there, too.”  
  
Draco frowned. So far Blaise was making sense, which didn’t often happen. His left hand moved closer to his right hand, stopping somewhere in the middle. “Next, we have the friend and acquaintance zone and after that, is the family zone. These are similar in ways. This is where family, friends, friends-of-friends and people passing through, including strangers and people in authority lie. In that order,” he added as an afterthought. “There is respect there, and openness for a tamer kind of love that forms bonds of everlasting friendship. If the bonds are broken they go to a lesser of the group or to the bottom of the scale. It depends on the act that breaks the bond. Weasley told me one of Potter’s dad’s friends had an experience like that. You know Pettigrew?”  
  
Draco’s eyes widened. “That little Weasel?” And he didn’t mean that in the fond way he’d taken to thinking of Weasley all of a sudden. He blamed Blaise for that. “ _He_  was a friend of Potter’s dad?” he asked, unable to believe it.  
  
Blaise nodded. “A close one too. He spent years as Ron’s pet rat, got another one of Potter’s dad’s group killed, as well as his dad.”  
  
Draco’s jaw dropped. “Bottom of the scale for him, then.” Blaise nodded solemnly.  
  
Blaise gave him a pleased grin. “You’re learning. The last one, and the most fun, I’m learning, is the unbelievably besotted, move earth and mountains kind of love. There is passion, and really good sex. I mean  _good_.” He smiled fondly. “There’s a respect here too and a need to give affection, no matter what.” He stared at Draco and dropped his hands. “Somehow, and I would really like to know your secret, you went straight from the bottom to the top and, based on what Ron told me, you’re gonna learn exactly how much a Gryffindor is willing to do when they have the power and will to do it. And it’s all yours Draco, for as long as you let it be. You lucked out.”  
  
Draco stood up. “You know where I’m going?”  
  
Blaise shook his head. “No. But I do know what you’re going for and, believe me, you  _are_  going with Potter tonight if I have to drug you and take you to meet him myself.”

“Potter.”

Harry turned around from checking his watch. It was after eight now and he couldn’t help the smile on his face when he saw Draco walking towards him. “You came.”  
  
Draco ignored the flip in his stomach that smile conjured. “I wasn’t going to, but then Blaise reminded me of your end of our bargain if I turned up.”  
  
Harry nodded then, the smile dying a little and cocked his head toward the North staircase. “Oh, okay, well it’s this way.” Draco did not feel bad for the way Potter slouched his back as he walked. Not.  
  
Draco fell into step with him, eyes forward and taking his cues from Potter’s body language as they climbed endless stairs. “What floor are we going to?”  
  
Harry turned his head to him as he led them onto a window lined corridor. “This one. The seventh.” Outside and to the west, the Quidditch pitch was lit up bright, and up to the north the lights of Hogsmeade were twinkling in the distance. At the end of the corridor, Harry could see the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room and swung right to get to Dumbledore’s office. He reached into his pocket. Dumbledore had written the statement in his neat scrawl and given it to Harry to show to Draco. If he didn’t, Draco wouldn’t be able to floo to their destination. “Here.”  
  
Draco took it and read through it by the torchlight in the sconces on the walls. “What is Grim-mauld... You’re taking me somewhere that sounds like grim old place? Romantic, Potter.”  
  
Harry paused and swallowed. “Romantic? Er, no, I - um. Well... er.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he stopped at the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore’s office. For some reason, now that he didn’t have to pretend to like Draco, it was harder to talk to him. Now he knew he would mess up any chances he had with the wrong words. “Peppermint creams” he said instead.  
  
“What-ah!” Draco jumped when the gargoyle suddenly moved to step to the side and a flight of stairs began to twirl its way upward. He startled when Harry took his hand, but the brunet didn’t seem to notice as he encouraged Draco to follow him onto a step and ride the stairs upwards. The trip to the top was short lived, but Draco wasn’t paying attention to that, only to the small golden plaque on the massive oak door that said:

 

**_Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_ **

“This is his office?”  
  
Harry smiled. “Surprised yet?”  
  
Surprised? Yes. Disappointed? Well... Draco was surprised he didn’t really have to think much to get the answer ‘Yes’, again. From the way Blaise spoke earlier, he’d been hoping for something more...  _more_ , really. “Oh, yeah. Definitely.” He tried not to sound as if his expectations had been higher, but he was sure he’d failed.  
  
Next to him, Harry knocked on the door and, at hearing the instruction to come in, Harry led them through the door, taking the slip of parchment back and screwing it up in his hand. His other hand, Draco now noticed, still held his.  
  
Behind a large desk surrounded by a rather extraordinary collection of trinkets, Dumbledore raised his head and smiled as if he was surprised Harry had turned up. “Harry, my boy, and young Mr Malfoy. A pleasure to see you. I trust you’re here for access to my floo?” When Harry nodded next him, Draco frowned. Dumbledore took note. “I take it Draco does not know where he is going?”  
  
Harry shook his head. “Only the address.” At this, Harry placed the balled up slip of parchment in front of a telescope directly in front of the Headmaster. Instantly, it burst into flame. Harry turned to Draco. “You ready?”  
  
“Er.” Draco was not so sure anymore. They were leaving the school? To go to a grim old place? Draco wasn’t sure it was worth it.  
  
“Professor Snape is already waiting for you there, Harry. You can go on through whenever you’re ready. Be back before midnight, please.” With that, Dumbledore went back to his correspondence. But by the way he was positioned, Draco could tell he was still listening. He narrowed his eyes even as Harry spoke to him. Was he even writing words? It didn’t look like it.  
  
“The hearth is large enough that we can go together. It might help, since I tend to fall out instead of walk like most people.”  
  
Draco cocked an eyebrow and turned to Harry. “Colour me surprised,” he said and calmed his mind. He followed the brunet into the fireplace anyway and stood quietly as Harry called out the ridiculous address.  
  
He nearly fell out of the fireplace himself when he was met with his parents and Professor Snape on the other side.  
  
He was silent for a second, sure -  _positive_  - he was seeing things. He blinked once, twice, three times, but their images didn’t go away. His mother was smiling at him, looking him over to see if he was alright and his father was standing stately and proud, doing the same thing. Both of them paused at the sight of his hand, which Potter was still holding. He pulled it away.  
  
“Mother? Father? I-” He looked at Snape, who pointedly gesture with his eyes to Potter - no - Harry. He deserved to be called by his name if this...  _Oh my God._  He turned to the Gryffindor in question.  
  
“Harry?” he said and was met with a surprised, but genuinely happy smile.  
  
Harry simply shrugged. “Surprise,” he said in mock grandeur.  
  
 _You’re gonna learn exactly how much a Gryffindor is willing to do when they have the power and will to do it. And it’s all yours Draco, for as long as you let it be._  
  
As Blaise’s words circled around and around in his mind, All Draco could manage was a breathy exhale as he turned back to his parents. “Yeah... surprise.” He couldn’t get any further than that.  
  
“I’ll er, I’ll be in the kitchen, yeah?” Harry said next to him. “You take your time.”

Draco had spent an hour with his parents, just talking with them. Snape had sat in the background surveying, but saying nothing. He’d then been given a tour of where they were staying, he’d even met the elf that was taking care of all of them. The house,  _Grimmauld Place_ , was Harry’s, apparently.  _The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_ , its holdings and stocks all belonged to  _Harry Potter_  because Sirius Black, his mother’s cousin, was Harry’s godfather. The notion was mind boggling, as was the fact that Harry was now putting them up in his mother’s old bedroom. The tour had taken a while, since there were five floors. Now he was standing in the kitchen after his parents had retired to the living room for a ‘night-cap’ before bed. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his mother use those words. It conjured a light feeling in his stomach.

Harry sat on the table, his feet on the bench as Draco walked towards him in silence. He rolled his lips into his mouth and bit down on them to stop himself from saying something stupid. Draco stood next to him, his hands curled into fists and resting knuckle down on the table, leaning over with his hair in his face and staring straight ahead into nothing, because Harry doubted he found the stove all that interesting. Did Draco even know what a kitchen looked like? Harry watched Draco carefully out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“You wouldn’t leave me alone,” Draco said next to him, his posture not changing. Harry turned to face the stairs leading up to the entrance hall. “You followed me, annoyed me, turned up spontaneously in places I didn’t want you to be and I fought you. I fought it – I...” Draco sighed and stood up straight, pacing a little, with his hand on his forehead. He suddenly turned, so fast Harry feared he was going to get hit. Draco looked manic. “I didn’t want to feel this way, but then Blaise and –  _fucking Weasley_  – I...” He stopped and stared at Harry for a long time, his expression considering. “You did this for me. All of this.” He gestured to the whole kitchen with his hands, but Harry figured he meant the situation they were in and ducked his head down. The wood grain of the table was particularly interesting. “You grow me impossible flowers, you stalk me to make me smile – you... Oh my god, you took my parents,” Draco said, moving closer to Harry, pointing upstairs to the general area where the living room was, “away from that place – from  _him_. You – you’ve practically cleared my father’s name with that article in the paper, I-” Draco cut himself off, cupped Harry’s jaw with both hands and kissed him long and hard on the mouth.   
  
Harry was surprised at first, his mouth open to protest the part of Draco’s rant about the newspaper article, but Draco shut him up immediately. He was shocked, having gone from being told off to being kissed, but he ran with it. His hands moved from being startled and suspended in mid-air to resting cautiously on Draco’s hips. With his movement, Draco moved closer, his knee coming up to rest on the bench as he crowded himself between Harry’s legs. The kiss became more urgent, the kind where Draco’s tongue parted his mouth open and delved inside, taking no prisoners. Harry felt lightheaded, a sudden feeling of being carried off his feet and swept away somewhere airy, where not much oxygen was present, or needed. It was an overwhelming feeling, being kissed by Draco Malfoy. One only superseded by being kissed _and_  having Draco’s arms suddenly secure themselves tightly around his neck, which was absolutely fucking brilliant, since it brought the blond even closer, aligning the front of his body to Harry’s. He could feel every contour, every dip and smooth surface. Once that registered, all logical thought left his mind and he held on for dear life. Harry enjoyed every second.  
  
When Draco broke away, for a moment, Harry still couldn’t breathe. He’d honestly forgotten how. His head lolled back and he looked up at the cracked paint on the ceiling. “What was that for?” He was sure his voice was slurred. He certainly felt drunk. He brought his head forward. It felt heavy, probably weighed down by the pleasure it couldn’t comprehend yet, but Draco didn’t seem to mind when it rested against his temple. “Not that I’m complaining,” he made sure to add. Ron said Slytherins were temperamental, especially in high emotional states. He had to tread carefully.  
  
Draco’s cheeks were flushed pink and he was panting a little, but his arms remained around him, so Harry didn’t let go either. “It was a thank you,” he said into Harry’s ear.  
  
 _Note to self: do thoughtful things every hour, on the hour._  “Oh, well... you’re welcome,” he said instead.  
  
Draco pulled back a fraction to look him in the eyes. His grey eyes narrowed fondly. It wasn’t an expression Harry was familiar with, so it took a while to decipher it. “I am, aren’t I?” Draco said to him as if discovering he was rich for the first time. Harry tried to make sense of it.  
  
He couldn’t. “What?” he asked.  
  
In response, Draco only kissed him again. Followed by another, and another. He didn’t know how long it went on for, but when they were interrupted by a cough, the lights on the wall actually flickered, Harry was so angry. He turned to the stairs to see Snape standing there, looking equal parts amused and exasperated. “It is ten to midnight. We must go. Draco, your parents are upstairs waiting to say goodnight to you.” Snape turned around with a final parting glare as a response to Harry’s livid stare.  
  
Draco stepped back and away from him and Harry noticed he’d actually moved forward on the table to prevent Draco from awkwardly balancing himself on his knees. He shut his legs, feeling a little shame-faced, and immediately hopped off the table to follow Draco upstairs. Harry stood to the side as Draco stepped forward to hug his mother and father in turn, both of them wishing him a good night while, inexplicably, watching Harry over his shoulder as they said it. There was something about Slytherins and innuendo. The handful of times he’d spoken to Blaise, he always got the feeling that every word out of his mouth had to do with sex, even if he was only discussing the benefits of candle versus wand light. He’d smirk while using phrases like ‘ _...coming out of a wand, your magic makes the light like liquid,_ bursting _and passion-bright, while candlelight only gives_ shallow stabs _at being enough_ ’ that would have Harry forever unsure if it was Blaise’s mind that had permanent residence in the gutter or if they were, indeed, simply neighbours. It was most disconcerting. As was the way Ron would swallow hard whenever Blaise would speak. He nodded to Draco’s parents when it became his turn to bid farewell and walked to the hearth in the centre of the living room wall. Snape stood there with the jar of floo powder.  
  
“To: ‘Professor Dumbledore’s Office, Hogwarts’,” he said as Harry grabbed a handful of floo powder. Snape’s figure dropped away with a burst of green flame and they were suddenly back in the fireplace in Dumbledore’s school office, the trill of Fawkes's startled voice the only sound present in the room. There was dim, dull candlelight ensconcing the room. Harry looked around, but saw no sign of the Headmaster.  
  
“Professor?” he called out anyway and got no response. He turned to tell Draco they better get him back to his dorm, when he realised Draco was watching him. Probably had been since they’d left London.  
  
Draco took his hand. “Come with me.” Harry heard his voice, heard the serious tone of it and kept silent as Draco led him outside and down countless flights of stairs until they were outside of the Slytherin Common Room entrance. Harry wondered what this was all about. Draco was staring at the entrance, his brow furrowing once in a while as he thought something through. Harry began to tug his hand back, about to tell the blond he would see him tomorrow when Draco’s gaze snapped to him. “What are you doing?”  
  
Harry froze. “Er, well, you’re here, so I’m going to bed.”  
  
Draco turned to him. “Yeah. You’re going to bed.” He turned back to the portrait and plainly uttered the password, dragging harry through the Common Room and to a set of steps that led down into the dorms.  
  
Theo looked up from the book he was reading by  _Lumos_  in his bed. The other beds’ curtains were secured shut, as usual. Theo could read up until breakfast the next day and still go a full day of school. Draco never understood that. “Draco? What is Potter doing here?”  
  
“Shut up, Theo.” He pulled Harry in front of him and turned him around. “Shoes,” he said and watched as the Gryffindor quickly divested himself of them before pushing him back onto his bed. He took off his own shoes and climbed on after him, pulled his curtains closed and cast an  _Impervius_  to lock them shut. He reinforced that with a  _Silencio_.  
  
“Draco?” Harry lay on his back as Draco lay down on top of him.   
  
“Shut up,” he said casting a quick  _Luminum_  spell. As the small balls of light rose from his wand to float above them, he turned back to Harry. “Unless your vocabulary consists of ‘Yes’, ‘More’, ‘Harder’ or ‘Faster’, don’t say a damn word.” He took off Harry’s glasses and folded them, putting them aside on his bed.  
  
Harry bit his lip. “Can I groan?”  
  
Draco smirked. “I’d consider it an insult if you don’t.” He leaned down, running his tongue along the curve of Harry’s mouth, feeling their teeth collide as Harry kissed him back. He let his weight fall gradually, body pinning Harry down, his hips grinding and his hands being warmed by Harry’s hot skin at the small of his back, under his clothes. Harry’s hands were warm on his hips, his fingers clenching and releasing against his jumper.  
  
Draco frowned when he felt the hand on his hip was trembling. He pulled away and looked down, grasping onto Harry’s hands and pinning them to the bed beside his head. “Have you done this before?” he asked him quietly, patiently waiting for the answer. He could tell Harry was trying not to squint, the effort making him look even more vulnerable than the embarrassment was. He lowered himself down, his thigh slowly rubbing along the length of Harry’s cock. With a red blush, Harry shook his head, groaning at the contact.  
  
Harry’s fingers tightened around Draco’s as he held them down. “Been kind of more concerned with, you know –  _ah_  – staying alive.”  
  
Draco relished the arch of Harry’s back, bringing his front in constant delicious contact with his own. “Mmm, good thing too, or this wouldn’t be happening.”  
  
“Yes, very good.  _So good_.”  
  
Draco’s eyes narrowed in thought for a moment before he sat up, moving the thigh from between Harry’s legs so he could sit on the brunet’s stomach. “Right then, that’s settled.”  
  
Harry cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when Draco let his hands go. When they went for the hem of his jumper and began to pull it over his head, though, he paused. “Er.” Draco’s hair resettled messily around his ears and neck and when his head bent forward to watch as he undid the first few buttons of his shirt, his fringe fell into his eyes. Harry felt himself grow harder at the image.  
  
Draco leaned over, after pulling off his shirt, and undid the locking spell on his curtains long enough to dig into his bedside drawer. He dropped the bottle of lubrication by his pillow to re-lock them again. By the time he focused his attention on Harry, the Gryffindor was reading the label on the bottle. He leaned forward on his hands, taking the bottle away and moved close enough so that Harry would have no need to squint.  
  
“I didn’t plan on this, but... after today. Potter, you do still like me right?” It was stupid to ask, after the last two months, but Draco was vain enough to need the reminder.  
  
Harry nodded. “I didn’t plan on that either.”  
  
“Okay then, get up.” Draco moved back to give him room.  
  
“What?” Harry said sitting up.  
  
“Move, Pot- Harry. You’re in my space.” He stared until Harry got it and with a red blush on his cheeks, they switched places.  
  
“Erm...” Harry was sitting watching him now, his eyes hot, but unfocused.   
  
Draco wondered what would happen to him if he ever lost his glasses. “Can you see me? At all?” he asked.  
  
Harry’s hand came out to touch his skin. “An outline. You’re all blurry, really.” His hand was hesitant, and there still a small tremble present, even with the confident glide.  
  
Draco sat up to meet him. “Then don’t you think you should move a little closer?” He grabbed at the hem of Harry’s jumper and the t-shirt underneath and yanked it up, tossing it to the bottom of the bed. With his top half bare, Harry’s body seemed to curl in on itself and Draco put his hands on Harry’s shoulders to stop him. Harry’s eyes were wide and green – so very green – and they were watching him, up close, as if he’d do anything Draco asked. Draco shut his eyes to the overwhelming sense of power that made him feel.  
  
 _And it’s all yours Draco, for as long as you let it be._  
  
He claimed Harry’s mouth, gliding his nails against Harry’s scalp and kissed him until they had to break apart to catch their breath. Harry’s hands on his skin weren’t trembling anymore, and his breathy moans seemed to increase the more Draco’s hands raked through his hair. Draco smiled a little at the knowledge and lay back, taking Harry with him. With Harry on top of him, looking unsure and a little lost, his hair wild and his eyes blown with desire, Draco couldn’t help a feeling of fondness. He searched blindly with his hands for the lube and put it in Harry’s hands and he made for his belt.  
  
Harry sat back on his haunches and Draco rose up to tug off his trousers, tossing those to meet with Harry’s jumper. “I don’t -”  
  
Draco shook his head. “It’s okay. I’ll show you.” He pulled him down. “Come here.” Harry followed his hands, cradled around his jaw, and met him in a kiss that had Draco sighing. Harry’s kisses were becoming intoxicating and Draco found himself unable to pull away. Coming up for air, he took Harry’s hand, moving it from the endearing strokes against his side and guided it towards the bottle of lube, opening it and pouring some out into his hand.  
  
“One at a time. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.” He lay back. “Go slowly, though. It’s been a while.”   
  
“Yeah,” Harry said lowly. “That’s  _just_  what I needed to hear,” he said as he ran his fingers through the lube in his hand. Draco laughed. “So I just...?” When Draco nodded, he moved forward, his hands slipping between Draco’s legs.  
  
First finger in, Draco gasped at the intrusion, forcing himself to stay still and not move away from the questing digit. He wasn’t joking when he’d said it had been a while. He hardly ever did this anymore, because the first time didn’t hold the best of memories on his side. But this was Harry, and he could trust him not to get carried away, or go too far too soon.   
  
“Does it hurt?” he heard and opened eyes he wasn’t aware he’d closed. He saw that Harry’s face was close to his, probably so he could see him and make sure Draco wasn’t getting hurt by his actions. Far from it. His neck arched at the sensations he was feeling, far removed from the awkward twinges of pain he’d first felt the last time. He suddenly caught himself moving to the rhythm of Harry’s hand, realising Harry had two fingers inside of him, scissoring them apart and twisting as he pushed in and pulled them out again. Draco swallowed around a moan, the sound choking him as his fingers clenched in the sheets behind him.  
  
“No,” he managed. He didn’t trust anything else to come out as recognisable English.  
  
Harry moved his hand slowly, feeling the tight hot recesses of Draco’s arse clenching around his fingers. Slipping in a third finger, a sharp rush of heat entered his system when Draco moaned again and one of his own was torn from his throat as the blond arched his back, his mouth open in a silent scream. He slowed down, thinking he’d done something wrong, when Draco grabbed his wrist and held it still as he practically gyrated on his hand. “Right there,” he whispered urgently, his brow furrowing in concentration. Harry leaned forward, taking hold of the death grip around his hand and pulled firmly as he took his fingers out. He wiped his hand on the sheets, taking Draco’s hands and securing them by his head, reminiscent of how Draco had held him down before. The word ‘No’ was chanted by his ear and he smiled a little at hearing it. It was only when he heard, “Please,” whispered sexily, almost begging, that he knew he had to get his trousers off. Now. He leaned back, heedless of the gasp he heard when he removed himself.  
  
Draco’s eyes opened, taking in Harry’s form and frowning until he realised what was going on. “You’re still wearing your trousers?” he panted. “Take them off - off!” He began to push at them ineffectually, getting in the way of Harry’s hands, with the button and zip still done up. All his coordination was gone, he realised. He huffed when Harry chuckled at him softly and fell back when Harry pushed him down, telling him he could take care of it. “Hurry up.”  
  
Harry snorted and undid his pants in record time, pushing them down and off and relishing the feeling of skin on skin contact when he lay back down. He kissed Draco again, starting from his neck and moving up to just below his ear, unable to get enough. Draco’s arms slid around Harry’s waist and his foot trailed up the back of his calf, twining them together. “It’s okay,” he said, “come on.” Harry simply stared, perhaps lingering a bit too long because Draco grunted and pulled him down to kiss him properly, sucking hard at his tongue. His hips rutted against Harry’s, cock sliding against his stomach. When they parted, Draco said it again. “Fuck,  _come on_.”  
  
Around his cock, Draco’s heat was even hotter, slicker and more wonderful than it could have ever felt around his fingers. Harry vowed never to make that comparison again. Nothing could compare to this.  _Nothing_. “Oh, my god,” he said reverently. “ _Fuck_.” He slid in carefully, inch by excruciating inch. His thighs were aching with the effort, but he restrained himself until he was seated to the hilt. Draco’s legs cradled his hips now, the long limbs wrapped around him. He sighed, closing his eyes, trying with all his might not to come immediately.  
  
“I’m going to need you to move soon, Harry.” There was a definite wriggle, that made the breath catch in his throat, because –  _Christ_  – but that felt good. His mouth was open as he pulled out an inch and then sank back in. His skin was more sensitive than usual; Draco’s hands were traversing his sides, moving up to his shoulders and holding tight, securing himself, likely, for when Harry began to move in earnest. Then Harry realised he was moving, unable to stop. He registered light gasping moans in his ear as his forehead rested against Draco’s collarbone. His hips were flexing in careful measured movements, and his forearms were planted on the mattress to give him some leverage. Instinct, he was going on instinct, because he sure as hell wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing. Draco didn’t seem to mind, though.  
  
Draco’s fingers were gripping clumsily at his arms and shoulders now, murmuring words Harry didn’t understand in his ear, save for swear words and moans that he didn’t need to understand to simply  _get_  because his mind was on enough of the same wavelength to translate it into: “ _Yes, right there, fuck Harry, right there_ ,” without much difficulty. He could feel Draco’s lips at his neck, licking and biting and sucking in quick succession and then registered the bite of nails in his shoulders and the targeted angling of Draco’s body as he tilted himself against Harry’s thrusts. His channel tightened and clenched around him, the small whimpering noises he was making becoming more urgent and Harry knew that Draco was close, likely as close as he was.  
  
There was no way,  _none_ , that this was Harry’s first time. If it was, then he must have been practicing or something. Unless the rule of luck he’d been subjected to bled into his sex life too, which was just fucking unfair. Draco felt boneless, satisfied,  _worshipped_. Was that normal? It couldn’t be, but he could tell; even though Harry seemed lost in his own pleasure, from the stroking thrusts against his prostate once Draco had begun to tilt  _just so_ , and from the light licks and bites at his neck when he arched it, all focus, all attention was on him and he revelled in it. Harry was moaning in his ear and he tightened again feeling the groan deepen and the thrusts become harder to power through them. He looked up. The bright lights he’d released from his wand earlier were getting brighter. He frowned a little. How was that possible?  
  
“Argh,” he heard suddenly and his hands were grabbed from where they’d dug their way into Harry’s shoulder blades. There was a rush of heat swelling in the pit of his stomach and he knew he was about to come, could feel the electric charge of it running down his spine. “You’re going to tear me apart soon.” The voice was low and gravelly with the effort to speak. His hands were secured by his head, fingers threading through his and the bright light was blocked by Harry’s head. The backing light made him look ethereal, his green eyes highlighted because they were so clear.  
  
“So green.” He knew he wasn’t making any sense, he was too far gone for that now.  
  
Harry’s brow quirked. “What?” he asked confused.  
  
Draco shook his head. He broke his hands free and raked them through Harry’s hair again, dragging him down into a kiss, those measured thrusts making him sob into it, as he was momentarily overwhelmed by his orgasm. Coming down from his high he could feel the tightening of Harry’s frame as he followed him over the edge.  
  
Harry didn’t have the strength to maintain the kiss Draco stole his breath with. His mouth lingered open, his lips barely brushing over Draco’s as his hips became independent creatures, mindless in his orgasm until he had nothing left and collapsed.  
  
He could feel Draco’s arms around his shoulders as he rested his head on Draco’s chest. He turned to lay his ear to Draco’s breastbone. “Your heart is beating really fast.” His makeshift pillow rumbled beneath him.  
  
Draco was laughing; breathy ones that puffed out against the nape of Harry’s neck and made him shiver pleasantly. “You’re kind of heavy,” Draco said like he was noting something he’d never noticed before.   
  
Harry moved sluggishly, carefully pulling himself out of Draco and gasping at the sensitivity he never thought he would feel and collapsed again on his side facing the blond. Draco turned towards him, moving closer and nuzzling at his neck. Harry closed his eyes feeling extraordinarily tired, letting Draco hold him close as he drifted to sleep.

Snape stepped through the floo minutes after Potter and Draco and came out into the Headmaster’s office. As the green flame died down, he was met with a put out trill from Fawkes' perch.

“Well?”  
  
Snape turned his head sharply. He reached into his robes and pulled out three small phials filled with a dark purple potion he’d finished hours ago before being sent to babysit Lucius and Narcissa. “Tonks is with them now,” he said. He hadn’t taken the potion yet. Dumbledore had instructed him that it should be administered only around others with their specific knowledge present. Just then, the door opened.  
  
Remus Lupin had a bemused smile on his face. “I just saw Draco Malfoy practically dragging Harry down the stairs.” Snape cocked an eyebrow, sharing a glance with Albus. “But Gryffindor’s Tower entrance is on this floor.”  
  
Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow. “Then they were obviously not going to Gryffindor Tower, Remus. Severus, if you will.” Severus gave the two men each a phial and uncorked his with no ceremony, knocking it back in one go. Next to him he could see Remus had done the same thing. They felt it was better this way. All three accounts would leave no doubt to what the future would be. The familiar twist to his vision was expected and he sank back into the chair he’d thought to drag over. He shut his eyes to stave off the dizziness, though he knew it would do no good.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, around him were visions of a war riddled world, but with an air of satisfaction. Harry Potter stood in a public place that looked like a train station covered in white and speaking to his parents, to  _Lily_. The picture switched suddenly to Potter standing covered in grime over the body of Voldemort. Front pages of newspapers then filled his vision, screaming that the Dark Lord was dead.  
  
It went quiet, suddenly.  
  
He was standing in a kitchen. When he looked around, he could see Potter standing at the sink with a steaming cup, overlooking a skyline. Suddenly, he was on Potter’s other side, the vision fading in and out, watching Potter being kissed on his cheek while arms circled around his neck from behind. Severus looked closer, the arms had no distinguishing features on them, but the voice was clear. “ _Mmm, Remus just called, he and Severus are coming over later to give you some more material for your classes._  A disagreeable look passed over Potter’s face. He put down his cup “ _No, not him. Anyone but him. If I’d known marrying you would get me him as a family member I wouldn’t have bothered._ ” A sly expression became prominent as Potter was turned around. Grey eyes entered the picture before the mature and content face of a smirking Draco Malfoy moved closer to pin Harry to the sink. He could see a white gold band around his finger, and when he followed the length of the arm, it was completely clean. “ _Yes, you would have._ ” Harry Potter smiled as the vision faded, his finger entwining with Draco’s and he pulled him closer. “ _You’re right, I would have._ ”  
  
The vision left him, slamming him back into the present. The potion was more potent, apparently, he actually felt like he was present in the room for a moment. He’d have to check his notes. Severus blinked and looked around. Remus was lying down on his back staring at the ceiling. As if he could sense Severus’ gaze, his eyes snapped to him, pinning him in place. There was knowledge there and his eyes narrowed, seeing a matching set staring right back at him.  
  
“Did you see success?” Snape severed their connection and turned to Albus. He nodded. “I saw it too. Remarkable.” Albus stood up gingerly from where he’d fallen beside his desk. There was a determined undercurrent to his eyes now as he rounded his desk. “I believe we could all benefit from some rest. We can meet again tomorrow.” He began writing something down, distracted, effectively dismissing the two of them.   
  
Severus nodded once, sharply, and stood, disregarding his sway and stepped over Remus to get to the door. He was down the steps already when he was knocked into the wall, back first.  
  
“Tell me what you saw.”  
  
Severus once again felt pinned by that unrelenting gaze. He tried to move, but, surprisingly, found it very difficult. Looking up, he saw Remus cock an eyebrow at him, waiting. “I saw a world after the war, one where the Dark Lord was dead. Potter survived, so did Draco. They seemed content with their lives.”  
  
“What about you?” Remus said; his searching gaze sharp. He pressed closer.  
  
“I – I heard them mention me. Potter didn’t seem too keen to have me as an in-law of sorts.”  
  
A surprised look interrupted the hard stare on Remus’ face. “They marry? Wait - in-law?”  
  
Severus rolled his eyes. “I am Draco’s Godfather. Kind of.” At the questioning look he got, he sighed. “It’s not official, but the brat disowned his actual Godfather and claimed me when he was six after I painlessly healed his leg when he fell out of a tree.” Remus was smiling fondly at the story, his eyes warm now. “Was there something you wanted, Lupin? I am tired, and plan to sleep as much as I can until tomorrow’s meeting.” He didn’t have any classes tomorrow, thank Merlin. He could relax and maybe sleep for the rest of the day if Dumbledore didn’t take too long.  
  
Remus’ eyes narrowed. “Do you want to know what I saw?” he asked.  
  
“Whatever you wanted to see, I would imagine.” He’d used Varmagnon Root, a plant that was used to enhance mental connections, knowing it would allow the drinker to make conditions. He hadn’t warned of it, though he’d written the ingredients down for both Albus and Remus to peruse. He’d kept his conditions vague on purpose, allowed himself to see only ‘the future’ with no refined searches for himself. That he’d got Potter’s future, especially, as well as Draco’s showed he hadn’t tried hard enough. That he’d found out about himself, was simple luck.  
  
Remus, after learning he had died, likely had wanted to find out if he survived. Judging from Draco’s comments in his own vision, he could only imagine the nature of Remus’. The way the man was looking at him now, it didn’t take a genius.  
  
“I suppose,” he answered. “I came to collect my Wolfsbane from you, Severus.” Severus plastered himself more to the wall to prevent the shiver he felt ricocheting down his spine at hearing his name said like that from becoming noticeable. “You gave it to me,” he said and moved impossibly closer. “Do you know what else you gave me, Severus?” He knew the former Gryffindor felt that shiver, it was unmistakable.  
  
“What?” he asked even though he knew Remus would have told him anyway.  
  
Remus didn’t answer verbally in the quiet of the corridor. Instead his hand flew out snatch the back of Severus’ neck, pulling him in close so that he could press a kiss against the his mouth. Severus could feel Remus’ smile and the weight of his other hand against his back. When Remus pulled away, he was still smiling. “I’m looking forward to seeing you later, Severus.”  
  
Severus rested his forehead against Remus’, trying to simply breathe after the man had taken his breath. A hand came up to push the hair out of his face, he looked up, his black eyes taking in the fondness and warmth directed at him. He shut them, the feeling too much to take in all at once. One breath, two, three. “Not too late, I hope,” he whispered, his eyes opening again to see the bright sherry colour of Remus’ eyes as they reflected the light of the sconce by his head.  
  
Those eyes smiled with Remus’ mouth, bright and happy. He was silent for a long while, simply staring at Severus, content to stand there. “No, not too late,” he said eventually, and moved away, looking back once as he disappeared around the corner.

Waking up was a long pull into consciousness. Harry was on his stomach, as usual. He felt lethargic, and sore - in all the right places. He also felt very warm, but the area around him was far too dark to be normal. The tower was never dark, not with the faint gleam of light from the Quidditch pitch just to the west of the dorm windows. The light from the school’s stadium was always bright enough to light the way to the dorm room’s door so its inhabitants could get to the bathroom without killing themselves on Seamus’ things scattered on the floor near the door.

Then Harry remembered. A feeling of profound knowledge entering his mind with a resounding ‘ _Oh. Well, that happened._ ’ He turned his head, realising now that he couldn’t move because someone had spread their limbs out across his back and thighs. Draco was asleep, he could tell from the blond’s breathing, but he couldn’t see anything. From many days of practice after his fourth year, Harry was able to  _Accio_  his wand into his hand.  _Lumos_  would be too bright, but the spell Draco had used before had released some softly lit balls that floated. They were nifty. The spell was easily remembered too. “Luminum,” he said softly and watched as seven small balls floated up until they hit the canopy. Taking his eyes away, he focused instead on Draco. The Slytherin was fast asleep, the light not bothering him at all. His head was resting on his left arm, his right thrown across Harry’s shoulders and now, in the soft light, he could see the Dark Mark on Draco’s arm. It wriggled and squirmed on the pale skin.  
  
Harry got angry just seeing it. He frowned. He hadn’t noticed it much earlier. He wondered if Draco had purposefully hidden it. He didn’t have to, Harry realised, as his eyes moved to Draco’s peaceful, sleeping face. The anger left him completely as he gazed at him.  
  
“Stop it.” Harry jumped, startled at Draco’s voice. “It was weird before, it’s even weirder now.” Draco opened his eyes sleepily.  
  
“How long have you been awake?” Harry asked quietly, preserving the quiet tranquillity of the moment.  
  
“Since you Accioed your wand.” He moved his arm and leg from their positions across his body and lay on his back to look up at the canopy of his bed. He turned his head back to look at Harry. “You pick up fast,” he said with a smile.  
  
Harry smiled back at him, ruefully. “You’re probably the only one to tell me that besides Flitwick.”  
  
“You doubt him?” Draco stared at him, surveying his reactions. “Why? You are a powerful wizard, Harry, I’ve felt it. Your wild magic alone, it... it’s astounding.” The sleepiness was leaving his voice now and Draco turned on his side, strategically hugging his pillow under his head so that his arm would be hidden underneath it. Harry ignored it for now.  
  
“Wild magic,” Harry said, not knowing what that was.  
  
Draco looked at him like he couldn’t believe Harry had never heard of it. “The magic children have before they use a wand. It reacts randomly, like-” He cut himself off in thought, thinking of a good story to tell him. “When I was four, I remember my father telling me I wasn’t allowed in his office. I went in anyway,” he added with a roll of his eyes, “of course, because my four year old brain just didn’t understand why I wasn’t allowed in a room of my own home.” He smiled. “I heard his footsteps coming and I knew I would be in trouble. I just wanted to  _not_  be in the room anymore and my magic answered my call. I noticed a door that usually led to his cloakroom, but when I ran in there to hide I went into my bedroom instead.” He shrugged. “It’s just the way it works.”  
  
And, oddly enough, Harry knew what Draco was talking about. Harry remembered being picked on by his cousin and his gang and suddenly finding himself on the roof of his school. He remembered having his hair shaved by his aunt, her leaving a fringe at the front to hide his scar. It was the day before school and he’d cried all night knowing he was going to be bullied the next day. He then remembers waking up the next day with a full head of hair, as if it never happened. He remembered setting a snake free in the zoo, feeling angry and embarrassed at the time.  
  
“It’s fuelled by emotion, strong emotion, at first,” Draco said, suddenly recalling the brightening of the lights he’d seen earlier, and the flickering of the lights in Grimmauld Place before that. “You’re supposed to learn to channel it with your wand, though some of it gets lost. Some children get practice with their parents, others aren’t so lucky and have to wait and that tends to dampen the power they have.” He lay pensive for a moment. “I’m not sure about you. You didn’t get any practice, and in a way you didn’t have to wait because you didn’t even know what magic really was.”  
  
Harry shook his head. “I can’t have the kind of power you’re talking about.” If he did he would have been able to do so many things that could have helped so many people. He could have saved so many people he’d cared about. He wanted this conversation to be over now. He could feel himself getting angry.  
  
Draco gave him a shaky laugh. “You haven’t felt it like others have, like I have. It’s pore raising, it’s... Harry, really, it’s phenomenal. Once you control it-”  
  
Harry turned over onto his back and sat up. “But I can’t. I can’t control it!” He shook off Draco’s hand when he sat up with him and put it on his shoulder. “If I do have the potential to do all kinds of things, then it’s wasted, because that is all I’ll ever have: potential.” He could feel the sharp hot prick of tears behind his eyes and turned to Draco. “What good is having all this power when I can’t even use it? I can’t even access it.” He sat quietly, feeling Draco shifting beside him to cross his legs under the quilt. Running his hands through his hair, he could still feel the tingle on his scalp from where Draco had raked his nails against it. The memory did a lot to calm him, actually. He shut his eyes. “It’s frustrating as all hell,” he said, calmer now. “They tell me I have this great power all the time, but no one shows me how. Do you know how many people I’ve lost, Draco?” he said turning again to the blond. “I’m almost ready to tell the world to fuck off. They want me to save them yet they leave me with no skill, no knowledge of anything and then condemn me when things don’t go right? How is that supposed to make sense? How that supposed to be fair?” He sniffed rubbing his eyes, embarrassed at his mini breakdown.  
  
Draco leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder and sighed, a tired rush of air that fanned out over his skin, giving him goosebumps. He sat up again and pushed Harry forward, manoeuvring around to sit behind him. He pulled Harry back into the vee of his legs, wrapping his arms around his chest and waited for Harry to relax against him. “It’s not,” he agreed, the words low and rumbling in his ear. “Harry, the world is filled with ignorant people. You haven’t met them all, but they’re out there, believe me.” He laughed; the sound vibrating against Harry’s back. “Their job isn’t to make your life fair. That’s not their call, it’s yours. You want fair? You make it fair.” The arms tightened, pulling Harry closer to Draco’s chest. “If they belittle you because the Ministry wants them to conveniently believe you’re crazy, then prove to the world that you’re not and make the Ministry look like the scared fuck-wits that they are.” He waited for Harry to stop chuckling, smiling against his skin. “You want to gain access to your power? Then fucking  _practice_  with it. Live it, breathe it until it’s all that you know and then you’ll see how fair life can be, how satisfying life can be.”  
  
Harry sat in thoughtful silence. He could feel Draco’s heartbeat pounding against his back and he shut his eyes pulling in a deep breath. “Does this theory of yours extend to all aspects of life?” he said turning his head to look into the grey irises behind him.  
  
“Damn straight.”  
  
Harry turned around. “Oh, I hope not.” He pulled at the backs of Draco’s knees to tumble him down onto the mattress. Draco laughed and kissed Harry back when the brunet claimed his mouth with a smile, arching into him easily. The kiss tamed and Harry pressed his forehead to Draco’s as he pulled away.  
  
“Hmm, you  _do_  pick up fast,” Draco whispered between them.  
  
Harry squeezed his eyes shut tight and burrowed into the space between Draco’s neck and shoulder. He sighed, contented and said, “Only when it’s worth it,” quietly and turned his head to look at where their hands were joined, the fingers entwined. The movement of Draco’s tattoo drew his attention and his eyes became hard, determined. His finger’s tightened minutely.  
  
“Only when it’s worth it,” he said again.  
  
~Fin.~

**Author's Note:**

> 1 The Green Narcissus flowers do actually exist and were successfully cultivated by Zhang Bingchun in China in 2006 You can see them here: http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/200601/10/eng20060110_234315.html


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